Seeing is Believing
by WitchyWeasel
Summary: Murder, confusion and deadly illusions leave Camelot in chaos and Uther 'missing'. To save the city Merlin and Arthur undertake a difficult and revealing journey to destroy a legendary pillar built on a source of raw magic. ON HIATUS - WILL BE RESUMED
1. Eadric

**Seeing is Believing**

**Disclaimer****: Obviously I don't own Merlin or its characters. They belong to the BBC.**

**Author's note(s)****:** **  
Despite my slow update speed, I want to assure everyone this WILL definitely be completed. This is the first part of a bigger story (in 2 or 3 parts) which has been driving me around the bend for over a year.**

**No slash! Very mild Arthur/Gwen. No other pairings.**

**This story takes place one month after 2x13 and will contain spoilers for the first 2 series. This story started prior to series 3 so will diverge from series canon from 2x13 onwards. Any inconsistencies with series 3 events were unforeseeable at the time, but badgered me no end regardless.**

**Btw, if characters seem a bit too quick to react at the end of this chapter, it's intentional. The reasons become apparent in chapter 2. Also it's not all OCs, the main focus is on Merlin and Arthur.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 1**

The rhythmic stamping of feet broke the stillness that was Camelot after dusk. This was a quite respectable part of the town. In the window of a small, stone-built townhouse the curtains twitched and a female face peered outside to view the small group of soldiers marching down the street towards the lower town.

"What's going on out there?" she asked her husband. The cold night air blasted through the room as he removed his boots and cloak before closing the door behind him.

"Nothing you need concern yourself about," the man replied sternly.

"This is your doing isn't it?" His wife turned to him. "Damn you Eadric! How many more?"

"As many as it takes to permanently rid this land of this sorcery that has infested it. Those who continue to practice magic have chosen their own fate; the law is known to all. "

"Is that you talking, or Uther?" She scowled.

"I am loyal to my king. Those who practice magic are evil." said Eadric matter-of-factly.

"May I remind you who you are speaking to. I know better than you the nature of magic. These people are our friends. How many more innocent lives are you going to betray to stay in the king's favour?" she yelled.

Her outburst was silenced by the large masculine hand of her spouse, as she was struck violently across the face.

"I know very well what you are. You are my wife and you will show me some respect," Eadric snarled." As for the _other _matter, you have always been protected. I have provided for this family, Ingrith, and I have provided for you. Do you not appreciate the comfortable life we have? Would you rather our daughter grow up in squalor?"

Ingrith didn't meet her husband's eyes. Her fingers gently stroked her reddened cheek as she gazed towards the floor. She was broken from this daze by the sound of movement coming from the next room. A small, pale hand quickly disappeared behind the door frame and there was a faint sobbing. _Oh no_. The mother rushed to attend her child, cursing her husband under her breath.

She was followed into her daughters bedroom. Eadric reached out gently towards her shoulder as she stood hugging her 8-year-old daughter. Ingrith was having none of it. It was always the same; He would put her down, abuse her, and then act like the caring and considerate husband as if nothing had happened. She had used to wonder if it was in fact herself who was at fault, but not any more. She span round before he could touch her and walked backwards out of the room towards the window, still clutching her child close.

The sound of feet echoed up the street as the soldiers returned. In the middle of the group a young red-haired woman was being dragged along by two burly men. She wasn't going without a fight, but no amount of kicking and screaming could free her from her captors' grasp.

The first to look outside was the small teary-eyed girl.

"Aunt Edith?"

Ingrith turned, and then so did her stomach. She gasped at the scene she was witnessing: her younger sister under arrest and being escorted to the castle. Once there she was certain to be charged with sorcery and executed.

"NO!" She shrieked and made for the door. She didn't know what she was going to do, but she couldn't just stand and watch. Eadric had her pinned to the door before she could get it open.

"Don't you dare," he said. His voice was soft and calm, but the threat glistened on the tip of his tongue like blood on the edge of a knife.

It was wrong. All of it had been wrong. Ingrith had always known this and yet she had sat in silence as a coward, whilst Uther collected his prizes, hand-picked by the man she was supposed to love. This time he had gone too far.

What followed was the consequence of 12 years of mistreatment and cruelty. The sum total of her terror, fury and loathing in a single foul blow. She hadn't used magic in years, but the spell had left her lips before she'd had time to gather together her shattered thoughts.

_"Áwete mín fyrngeflita"_

Eadric was thrown upwards. He hit the ceiling hard, before gravity sent him crashing onto the table. He lay there face down, temporarily unconscious.

Ingrith slowly overcame her shock at the feat of magic she had just performed. She was desperate to rush outside to try and save her sister and yet fearful of leaving her daughter alone with this madman. Trying not to convey her feelings of fear and anger, she went to her where her daughter sat huddled fearfully in the corner and lovingly carried her outside. She looked around. Her sister was already gone, along with any chance of rescue. She couldn't get to her inside the castle. She set down her child, the most precious thing in the world, and kneeled down to face her.

"Eda, I need you to go," she whispered sadly.

"Mummy?"

"You have to leave. Go to Edward's house. His parents will take care of you," Ingrith said.

"You're not coming too?" Eda asked.

"Later. I want you to run there, can you do that for me?"

Eda was sacred and confused. She had begun to learn what sort of a man her father was, but she had never witnessed her mother like this before. She nodded.

Indoors, Eadric stirred. Groaning, he pulled himself up, felt his bloodied nose and walked towards the treacherous hag he'd had the nerve to call his wife, picking a knife of the table as he passed and concealing it up the sleeve of his tunic.

"Go!" shouted Ingrith and she watched, heartbroken, as Eda raced into the darkness. "Don't look back!"

Some distance away, crouched behind a large wooden barrel, Eda heard her mother yelling as her father advanced on her.

"You never cared about this family. All you cared about was your reputation and what would happen if anybody found out that the king's chief informer was married to a witch."

"Which fortunately, they never will." He sneered.

Peering round, Eda thought she saw a flash of gold in her mother's eyes before she was stabbed to death.

* * *

_**(20 years later)**_

"You say you witnessed this boy perform an act of sorcery outside your home?"

"Indeed sire." The slender, grey-haired figure with the crooked nose answered. He twitched slightly.

King Uther was sat before him at the end of the Great Hall and several of Camelot's knights stood motionless next to the wall along either side. It was midday and the sun shone down through the high windows, illuminating the room enhancing its magnificent splendour and leaving patches of light on the wooden floor where the Crowned Prince stood with his manservant. Merlin fidgeted nervously, frantically trying to remember any recent event when he might have been seen using magic. He was sure he didn't recognise the man and he'd been especially careful about casual sorcery after the unforgettable affair with the Witchfinder. Still, Uther was unwaveringly single-minded when it came to magic and there was no denying the fact that Merlin was a warlock.

"It was yesterday morning," Merlin's accuser continued. "He appeared in the street out of thin air. He pointed his finger at a cat which he had startled and it simply froze as if it were made of stone. He then recited an incantation and the animal vanished in green flames."

"What!" Shouted Merlin before he could stop himself. He received a malicious glare from the king.

"Do you deny these allegations, boy?" Uther said.

"Sire," Merlin answered hoping that remaining calm and collected might improve his chances. This whole situation was ludicrous. "I assure you I could not have possibly carried out the acts of which I am accused. I am a loyal servant of Camelot and I would never betray that trust. Furthermore, yesterday morning I accompanied Prince Arthur on a hunting trip just after dawn and didn't return until mid-afternoon." Merlin turned to Arthur, his master and his friend, waiting for him to confirm this story. He was surprised that the Prince hadn't leapt to his defence sooner; in the past he had always been totally blind to the possibility that his clumsy servant could, in fact, be a young magician. Merlin was even more surprised when Arthur just stared blankly, his face emotionless and uncaring.

"Let it be known that Camelot will not stand for sorcery and that for those who practice these evil arts and for those who consort with a sorcerer there can be only one sentence." Uther proclaimed. "It is every loyal man and woman's duty to serve this kingdom and make known those who would attempt to destroy it." The king stood and faced the informer. "Your devotion will not go unrewarded." He gestured towards Merlin, who looked even paler than usual and was glancing between Arthur and Uther anxiously. "Take him away."

The prince grabbed his servant by the arm and walked him out of the Great Hall and into the corridor.

"Come on, Arthur. You know full well none of that was true," implored Merlin. What was he going to do? It was one thing to be charged with acts of magic he was guilty of performing, but it was another thing to be falsely accused like this. Another thought struck him. What was Gaius going to say? The man was like a father to him and had been willing to sacrifice his life for Merlin's on more than one occasion. Terrified though he was at the prospect of what must lie in store, Merlin hoped the elderly physician didn't try anything foolish to protect him. Nothing about this situation was making any sense. His head was spinning. Who was this man and why was he making these claims. Did he know Merlin was a sorcerer? Merlin looked into the blank eyes of his friend; at least he had thought he was his friend. He thought he saw a flicker of _something_, but he wasn't sure what. He just wished Arthur would speak to him. Why on Earth would he behave like this?

"Arthur," Merlin pleaded again.

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**Although it's a bit of a slow start, please give this story a chance. Being a complete novice at writing, I'm less than happy with how some of my earlier chapters turned out, but I think my writing has gradually improved.**


	2. The Woman in the Shadows

**Hello, you're still here then. That's good :) **

**I meant to say before that the spells used in this story are Old English words, from an online translator, that seemed to be slightly appropriate. I have made little or no attempt to get structure and grammar correct and it almost certainly isn't, some of my meanings may also be inaccurate - (Modern English is my first language and I can barely use _that_ :D ) - probably best if you don't look into it too much. **

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Chapter 2

"Arthur, surely even you can't be this big a prat," Merlin protested, not looking where he was going and tripping on a step as he was escorted through the castle. "Just listen to me, I can explain."

Arthur stayed silent and pushed his servant into a room. Merlin couldn't see him roll his eyes as he closed the door behind them.

"Actually, do you know, what I can't explain," Merlin continued. "This is just ridiculous…"

"Merlin," Arthur interrupted.

"...And I know you're a prince and I'm only a servant, but I can't believe you didn't say anything. Just in case you'd forgotten, I spent yesterday morning 'sulking like a girl' – as you so humorously phrased it – whilst you had a rather unsettling amount of fun killing things…"

"Merlin!"

"...And now the king is probably going to have me beheaded or burned, but so long as you're fine with all that."

"Mer-lin!" Arthur said. "Admittedly, I am finding it mildly amusing to see how far you can go with this tirade. Even so, I feel obliged to point out the one _minor_ detail your sharp eyes may have failed to notice: these are not the cells." He watched the agitated young man pause to consider his surroundings. "Though I appreciate with your talent for cleaning, it can sometimes be difficult to tell the difference," he added with a smirk.

Merlin took his all too familiar surroundings: the table and chairs, the cupboard, the four-poster-bed against the wall. Everything was fit for a prince – of course it was, these were Arthur's chambers. In his nerve-wracked state Merlin had been totally oblivious to the fact that he'd been dragged _up_stairs, to the very room that he spent so much of his time tidying.

"Oh," was all he could muster, slightly embarrassed and thoroughly bewildered. When he got nervous or scared he had a tendency to ramble on – as he'd just demonstrated, with all due ineloquence – but confusion had left him speechless. It began to sink in that he might be about to get a reprieve after all; this had to be good, didn't it? If there was any reasoning behind anything that was happening here, it was totally beyond him.

"You can be such an idiot sometimes, Merlin."

"Well you can be a royal prat sometimes. Would it be too much for you to tell me what's going on?"

Arthur could see his friend was distressed. Obviously he would be. It had been rather cruel to keep up the pretence all the way to his chambers, but an anxious Merlin was fun to watch. He would certainly, had he been given the opportunity, have put his servant clearly in the picture beforehand; but Eadric had turned up unexpectedly. It had been 3 years since he'd last appeared before the king and there was no way Arthur could have known that he would be condemning _Merlin_ of all people. The boy certainly had a uncanny way of getting into this kind of trouble. Still, an explaination was most definitely called for.

"Eadric is notorious," Arthur explained. "He worked for my father many years ago, identifying sorcerers, and was afforded a great deal of respect. Tragically, he returned home one day to find his 8-year old daughter missing and the bloodied body of his wife by the door."

It sounded terrible indeed, yet Merlin had difficulty feeling sympathy for the man, especially given the number of families he must have torn apart as part of his work. Merlin frowned, not sure where this was leading. Arthur went on.

"Somewhat understandably, this broke his mind. His claims became far-fetched and blatantly false, such that they no longer carry any weight in court. Nonetheless, my father is still grateful for the service provided to him in the past and does not wish Eadric any ill-will. Also, as king, my father must appear to take all allegations seriously so as not to give the impression of weakness with regards to magic."

"So this was just an act?"

"Yes."

"I'm not in any trouble?"

"Noo."

"And, you don't think I'm a sorcerer?" Merlin asked.

"You? A sorcerer?" Arthur laughed. He had obviously being too soft on his servant lately, if he'd come to think of him as this big a fool. Two years now, they'd known each other: as master and servant, then – Arthur admitted to himself – as friends. Add to this the fact that Merlin was such an atrocious liar and the suggestion was too absurd for words. Obviously he would have noticed if the boy had been practicing magic. "Despite your highly suspicious appearance, there are certain aspects of your character which tend to preclude that possibility."

"Really? Like – Ow! – what?"

"Well, for instance, I highly doubt a sorcerer would have just walked into the corner of a table."

_Honestly,_ thought Merlin, did Arthur have to make him feel like a complete idiot? Was it really so implausible given how many times he'd almost been found out? He considered how he must appear rubbing his bruised leg –_ fair enough_. At least he was off the hook and that was a huge relief.

"If you were a sorcerer of course, I'd have you taken to the dungeons immediately," Arthur continued to joke, "that is if I didn't need my armour polishing, my dogs exercising, my clothes washing and a hole in the sleeve of my tunic mending."

"Nothing else then?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. When you've finished all that, you can clean out the stables."

Merlin mentally kicked himself.

"But, Gaius has already asked me to collect some herbs, clean the leech tank, plus he says that if I don't clear the filth from under my _own_ bed for a change, it's in danger of producing a new form of life." He complained. He really wished kept his mouth shut now.

"Then for the safety of Camelot it's probably best that you get started as soon as possible, isn't it." replied the prince with forced seriousness.

Resigned to the fact that he would now be occupied well into the night with this ridiculous workload he'd had thrust upon him, Merlin made to leave. Somehow, against all laws of probability, managing to hit his other knee on the same corner of the same table on the way to the door.

Arthur sighed.

"Frankly Merlin, I'd stick to being a servant. Evil doesn't suit you."

Arthur had expected a witty retort. He received nothing as Merlin half walked, half hopped out of the room. He hoped Merlin hadn't taken any offence. He dismissed this concern almost immediately; Merlin would just have to pull himself together and stop acting like a girl. He chuckled to the empty room, thinking of the spectacular display of clumsiness he had just witnessed. He made a mental note that when he was king he would need to introduce corner-less tables. It simply wouldn't do if his manservant was a cripple.

* * *

It had taken what seemed like forever to complete his chores. Earlier, Gaius had caught him using magic to clean Arthur's armour and as a result he had been subjected to regular inspections to ensure that he completed his remaining tasks in the conventional manner.

"You never cease to amaze me with your recklessness," he had reprimanded him. "Eadric may be delusional but there are plenty who aren't. Certainly, there is a time and place where magic is an acceptable form of action, but that does not extend to cover menial chores."

That hadn't stopped Merlin from enchanting the dust on top of his cupboard into the shape of a small rabbit, whilst Gaius was checking on a patient. It had proceeded to hop several times around the room before finally leaping up onto his window ledge where wafted away, dissipated by the gentle breeze.

Some time, much toiling later, Merlin was in the stables filling his fourth barrow and yet he'd hardly seemed to have made an impression. The floor was still covered in filth and the light outside was beginning to fade. Merlin wiped his brow then wished he hadn't. Cautiously and fearing the worst he sniffed his fingertips, then grimaced. What were these horses being fed? A dark bay palfrey whinnied as Merlin futilely tried to clean his face.

"It's not funny," Merlin pouted. It really wasn't his day. He groaned and scooped up another forkful of manure... and another... and another. He would be here a while.

Little did Merlin know that a short distance away, someone was watching his progress with keen interest. She was half concealed by the stone wall at the corner of a small storehouse, where she had a clear view of the stables. Brushing a strand of blonde hair from her eyes, she pondered. This was the great and powerful warlock she had 'seen', he was a mere boy, a servant and an awkward one at that. She regarded him again through the twilight haze. True, he was younger, but it was definitely the same man from her visions. The only problem now, was what to do next.

* * *

Night had fallen on Camelot and the hustle and bustle of city-life had been replaced by an eerie calmness. A tall, thin man was walking back to the castle muttering to himself. He stopped abruptly. Footsteps? Was he being followed? Quickly, he whipped his head round quickly and thought he glimpsed a figure melt into the shadow behind him. Turning back cautiously, he jumped when he found himself confronted by a pair of cold, hard, staring eyes and a face that oozed malevolence. The way this hefty man leered at him was sufficient to tell that he meant to cause him harm; of course the gleaming dagger directed at his throat also emphasised matters.

"Empty your pockets," the man commanded.

"Ah, I see there's been a misunderstanding. I'm honestly not carrying anything of value, and what's more, I know people at the castle."

"Do as I say."

The thin man suddenly heard a noise. Voices. Voices. Whispers. They were all around him. No, they were inside his head, calling to him, taunting him. _Why?_ And then, he was surrounded. Hooded men – that weren't men, but ghastly, demonic beings with crimson skin and golden eyes.

"Do as I say, now!"

He was deaf to everything but the voices. Louder and louder they became, throbbing inside his skull. He could no longer see his attacker; all he saw were the faces, monstrous faces, swimming in a sea of green flames before his eyes. He fought to rid himself of this apparition. He could hear nothing else. He could see nothing else. It ended when he felt the knife.

From out of the shadows a lone figure emerged: a woman, hooded and cloaked. Now was her chance. As she hurried over to the abandoned man lying bleeding in the dirt, she produced a small leather pouch, which she opened. She knew what had to be done. Kneeling over the body, she tipped the contents of the pouch into her other cupped hand; then she carefully applied the grey powder to victims body.

"_Stánes scinnlác, ic i gebene,"_ she chanted._ "Bedígle þæt ansíen. Bemúte …_

…_Merlin."_**

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**Reviews welcome!**


	3. Death and Pain

**Thank you so much for those who reviewed/favourited/added to story alert. It really cheers me up to find feedback in my inbox. I'm updating very quickly at the moment, but be warned that I'll have run out of stuff I've already written soon, so you may have to wait longer for future chapters.  
****I really hope you like this next chapter!**

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**Chapter 3**

Arthur got out of bed and looked out of the window. It had been morning now for some time. Strange, by now he'd usually been rudely awoken by one of the many uncivilized methods that Merlin so delighted in inflicting. Where was Merlin anyway? True, he _was_ actually capable of dressing himself without assistance, but he could hardly be expected to train knights on an empty stomach. He would need to have some serious words with his servant if he'd been put on another ghastly diet again.

Merlin still hadn't put in an appearance half-an-hour later. Bored with pacing aimlessly around his chambers and examining various pieces of the furniture, an exasperated Arthur, by now fully dressed, set out to find him. Most likely, he would be still asleep or sulking over yesterday, neither would be greatly surprising. Arthur would literally drag the boy out of bed if he had to. Busy muttering to himself about Merlin's incompetence, he almost bumped into Gaius on the way.

"Good morning, sire," Arthur was greeted politely.

"Well, _quite_. If a certain _someone_ we know still wishes to have a good morning, he'd better be up and about by the time I get to him."

"Sire?"

"I was just on my way to fetch Merlin," Arthur explained.

"Merlin has already left, I haven't seen him all morning. I assumed he'd already gone to work for you."

Arthur frowned

"In fact I haven't seen him since yesterday evening, he still had some chores to do and told me he'd be back... late." Gaius suddenly felt fearful. He had meant to wait up until Merlin returned, but dynamic as he was for his age, advancing years did occasionally get the better of him. He knew that Merlin was more capable than most at looking after himself, but for the very same reason was more liable to find himself in more dangerous situations.

The pair exchanged a worried look.

If anything had happened to Merlin, Arthur could not help but blame himself. All he had done yesterday was gain pleasure at Merlin's expense. Then he'd set all those chores. It was entirely his fault that Merlin had been out all night. The rumbling of his stomach had been silenced. It now felt as if he'd swallowed a boulder, the guilt sat so heavy. Even so, Merlin should have been safe, what would anyone want with a servant? What on earth could have happened?

_Dang Dong! Dang Dong! Dang Dong! Dang Dong!_

Instinctively Arthur sprang into action as the alarm sounded.

_Dang Dong! Dang Dong! Dang Dong! Dang Dong! _

Charging downstairs and rushing outside, he questioned the guard at the door.

"What's the cause of the alert?"

"They've found a body in the town, sire, murdered apparently."

"Who's the victim?"

"I am unsure, sire. If it has been identified I was not privy to that information."

Turning round he saw Gaius on his tail and gestured him to follow.

* * *

A month had passed since the incident with dragon. Whilst the most vital repairs had been carried out there was still a great deal of work to be done. Once prosperous areas of the town had been devastated by the attack, and carts arrived daily carrying stone to facilitate the rebuilding. It wasn't just a matter of structural damage either. People had lost their homes and places of work. Some had lost family members. Crime had risen dramatically in the last few weeks as the poor struggled to support themselves. Even so, Arthur hadn't realised things could have escalated to this. Murder?

Arthur knew he must be coming close to where the body had been discovered as an unnaturally large gathering of people up ahead. He saw Gaius scanning the crowd and knew he was looking for some sign of Merlin among them. He was doing the same. This was obviously the reason why the boy hadn't shown up. As Arthur drew nearer he began to notice people staring at him and murmuring amongst themselves. Honestly, you'd think they'd never seen the prince before? He still couldn't see Merlin anywhere. Where had that blasted servant got to. Then he saw...

_Oh god, please no._

The crowd had dispersed enough for Arthur to see the pale, dark-haired figure of the man lying in the the blood-soaked dirt. The neckerchief around the young lad's neck was caked with gore and failed to conceal his slit throat.

He felt sick. He was a soldier; it wasn't as if he'd never seen this kind of thing before. This was different, though. This was Merlin.

Naturally Gaius went up to examine the body, but it was hardly necessary. He was quite clearly dead and had been for some time.

"What is going on here Gaius?" The king had just arrived on the scene, accompanied by several knights, obviously to determine if there was magic involved.

"From what I can ascertain this was probably a random attack, most likely a desperate thief who went too far. I do not believe sorcery was a factor in this murder, my lord," Gaius said, anticipating next question.

"Very well," Uther said. He turned to his knights. "See that the person responsible for this is caught and brought to justice," he ordered. "I will not tolerate violence such as this in my kingdom."

Arthur watched Gaius supervising as Merlin's body was placed on a stretcher. Arthur could not understand how Gaius was able to remain so calm and professional when Merlin was practically his son. He supposed he was still in shock. Arthur certainly was. He knew that somewhere within himself he was hurting, that there were intense emotions fighting to be expressed, but all he felt now as he followed Merlin back into the castle was a dull emptiness he couldn't explain. He was vaguely aware that someone was trying to speak to him.

"Arthur."

Slowly, he became mindful that Uther was walking alongside him.

"Arthur, I would speak to you privately."

"Not now, Father." Arthur was not in the mood. He should be with Merlin. He _needed_ to be with him.

"Son, please." Uther was unyielding. His tone gentle, but remarkably firm.

Arthur wanted to argue. He started to protest but found the right words could not reach his lips. He didn't have the strength to challenge his father. Reluctantly he allowed himself to be taken to one side.

Standing midway up a stone staircase, they could hardly could hardly be described as being in the most private of settings, but the combined presence of the king and Prince Arthur had such an effect, that any potential eavesdroppers inexplicably remembered somewhere else they needed to be.

"These events are indeed distressing." Uther said. Looking down on his son.

"Very much so, Father."

"I realise this must be a shock to you. I know you thought of Merlin fondly, albeit against by better judgement."

"What do you care!" Arthur exploded. "You never thought of him, or anyone else for that matter, as anything other than a servant, a mere _thing_. To you his life was worthless."

"That is not true," replied Uther calmly. "He saved the life of my son. I could not be any more grateful to him for that. He proved himself to be loyal and that made up for certain _inadequacies_ as a servant."

Arthur scoffed, but Uther continued on uninhibited.

"You would not be the first person to become attached to his subordinates. A kind heart can be a great asset to a man, and a great burden to a ruler. You are a prince of Camelot, the future king and you must accept the fact that people will die. Servants are expendable. Soldiers are there to fall on your behalf. You cannot let your feelings get in the way of the welfare of an entire kingdom. Arthur, It is your responsibility to look at the bigger picture. Sometimes you will be forced to turn a blind eye, to let the villages starve and to let the peasants suffer, to ensure that the centre of power holds firm. Minor losses are unfortunate, but _can _be justified. The kingdom can recover. However, if a leader breaks, then everything comes crashing down. I realise this situation is different. A senseless act of violence has been committed within the walls of this great city and it disturbs me greatly. Still the same principle applies. You cannot afford to display the kind of weakness you are showing now. There are those who would seek to use it against you."

Arthur wanted so much to tell his father how wrong he was. He could see that now. Individuals mattered, they were all that mattered. They were the reason he would go out and fight monsters. Not for castles or kings, but for families who could sleep soundly at night and for children who could have the chance to grow up. The kingdom was a mosaic. The big picture was nothing without the individual tiles, the simple people: farmers, smiths, weavers, builders and indeed the servants. They were vital to give it shape, to give it life. He wanted to tell him. He wanted to shout it in his face, but he didn't. It wouldn't achieve anything, only create a rift between father and son and Arthur didn't want that. He stepped up so he could look Uther in the eye.

"May I be excused, _my lord_," he said, failing to totally conceal the venom in his voice. Uther bowed his head slightly and Arthur took it as a cue to leave.

He stormed away and strode briskly through the castle passageways trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone. He had to get to Gaius's chambers. That's where Merlin would be. He'd just arrived outside the room, when he heard someone shout his name. Not again. He really didn't want to speak to anyone right now.

"Arthur!" Gwen was rushing up behind him. "What's happening? I heard the alarm bell and now people are saying there's been a murder," she said once she'd finally caught up.

Arthur merely nodded.

"Who's been killed?"

Arthur held Guinevere's hand and slowly opened the door to reveal Merlin's pale and bloodstained body on the bed.

"No," she whispered and turned to Arthur as if looking to confirm that this was all some huge mistake. No such luck.

She walked over to the bed tentatively. There was no mistaking that image. She sat beside the bed and clutched at Merlin's ice-cold hands as if the heat from her own fingertips might somehow restore life's warmth back to his.

Gaius watched, but didn't try to stop her.

"Can't you do something for him?" Arthur said, knowing it was hopeless but positively refusing to believe it.

"He's already dead," Gaius pointed out unnecessarily.

Arthur paced trying to contain his frustration.

"But, you've got all these books, all these potions, you saved my life when I was bitten by the Questing Beast. You must…"

"If there was anything, _anything _that I thought could be done, I would already be doing it. Merlin means more to me than I could have ever thought possible, but we both must now deal with the fact that he's gone."

"He doesn't deserve this!"

"Very few people do."

A servant hovered in the open doorway. He was sure he shouldn't be intruding on such a personal matter. He coughed politely to attract attention.

"I have a message for Gaius; the king wishes to speak with you."

Gaius sighed. Despite what he'd told Arthur he didn't want to leave Merlin either. There was no logical reason, however, why he should stay, and definitely no reason that would satisfy Uther.

"Very well." Gaius carefully placed a sheet over the body and left with the servant, closing the door behind him, leaving Arthur and Gwen alone with Merlin's lifeless form.

* * *

Every time you met someone, knew someone, they left something with you. They invoked feelings: happiness, sorrow, fear, anger, courage. You might love, or hate them; every person was different and they touched you in different ways, leaving a unique fingerprint on your soul. Arthur was far from unfamiliar with death. He knew how quickly these bonds could be severed , by bolt or by blade, like a reassuring voice in your head that was suddenly silenced. It would take a small piece of you and leave an empty hole in its place each time. Arthur knew it was his duty to patch up those holes as best he could and move on, he told all his young knights the same. Death was an inevitable fact of life and mourning had no place on the battlefield. But this wasn't a battlefield, and the hole left by Merlin was gaping.

What feelings did Arthur get from Merlin. A pain in the arse sprang to mind. No, that wasn't true, not really, though Merlin had certainly given Arthur a swift kick up the backside where he'd needed it most. He reflected on the day they first met and he'd been called a 'royal prat'. Quite right too. Before he knew Merlin he'd been popular_,_ at least with the other knights. They complimented him on his fighting skills, they laughed at his jokes, they always did he told them and they never ever insulted him. It was only now he realised that therein lied the problem. He'd needed someone to stand up to him, to voice their own opinions instead of parroting his own. Likewise he could tease Merlin without having to worry about fervent apologies and promises to serve his lord better in the future.

Arthur could be who he wanted with Merlin, and he had discovered that there was more to himself than being some stupid, stuck-up prince. There were times when they could almost speak as equals, with the advantage that Arthur could always put Merlin in his place if things got out of hand. He regretted the latter now of course. In many ways Merlin had been the worst servant he had ever had, yet none of that seemed important. How could one skinny, scruffy servant have such an endearing effect on so many people?

This figure lying on the bed, this was not Merlin. Not any more. Although they were now covered, in his mind Arthur could still see those blue eyes that were vacant and staring, devoid of the friendliness and warmth that had filled Merlin's. It was all gone now: the cheeky glint, that slightly uneasy flicker like he was hiding something, but damned if Arthur could ever figure out what. Now he would never have the chance.

It was all so senseless, they had been through so much together in such a short amount of time. They had battled sorcerers, bandits and all manner of magical beasts. He had faced a monstrous fire-breathing dragon and come away unscathed, and it was this, a chance encounter with a cut-throat, that had got him killed. There had to be more to it, there just had to be.

Arthur breathed in deeply. He was a prince, a future king, he refused to cry over a servant. His eyes stung with the effort. He blinked. Was it okay to shed a tear for a friend? What good could it do though, it wouldn't bring him back. Merlin was dead. Dead. And he would have to accept that.

He hadn't realised that he was shaking until a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. Arthur had thought he wanted to be alone, but he placed his own hand on top of Gwen's then found himself facing her. He managed a weak smile. Her deep brown eyes were filled with the same pain he was experiencing and like him, she was trying to be strong. They didn't speak, neither of them had the energy and both of them knew what the other was thinking. They were there for each other and they would get through this together.

Arthur drew Gwen into a tender embrace. How long they stood there silently in each other's arms he didn't know.

* * *

The door flew open and in burst a scrawny fellow who looked and smelled as if he'd spent the best part of the night in a dung heap.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed awkwardly upon observing pair, then he shot out the room even faster than he had entered.

Arthur and Gwen looked at one another disbelievingly, then at the bed, then at the door. Impossible.

* * *

**Please review if you have time. I'd love to know what you think.**


	4. Identity Crisis

**I'm not sure how well this chapter turned out. It's mostly all dialogue -- I need to work on more and improved descriptions for later chapters I think -- as well as being short. It might be a bit rushed because there's a lot I need to get through and this is still an introduction of sorts. I was going to write more, but it was going to become repetitive without a break. Also, I've come across some logic and plausibility issues which I will need to address. One of these isn't that major and I already knew about. I think can get away with it by the characters drawing attention to it. The other is blatantly obvious, but didn't occur to me until today, which is a shame because it affects the big, epic stuff which will happen in chapter 9(ish) -- and that's complicated enough already. If I'm careful I should get away with it alright, but it will require a bit more thought.**

**Thanks as usual to everyone who reviewed. Please continue, it really makes my day.** **Hope you enjoy this next chapter.**

**Chapter 4 **

Merlin knew he was going to be in trouble now. He should have been at work over an hour ago. He still couldn't quite believe that he'd managed to fall asleep in the stables. A minute's rest, that was all he sat down for, then the next thing he knew it was morning. Thankfully the horses were still there this time. With any luck, no-one – namely Arthur – would ever find out. He had received some peculiar looks as he returned to the castle and no-one had spoken to him, but that was hardly surprising given his current filthy state. Surely, any passers by would just think he'd woken up early to clean the stables, they wouldn't guess he'd been there all night. He would get himself cleaned up then he would go and see Arthur, be lectured about incompetence, in other words business as usual. No-one need be any the wiser.

Curiously, there was an odd atmosphere this morning that had nothing to do with the fragrant aroma of excrement about his vicinity. Everyone seemed ill-at-ease. He would have to ask Gaius about it.

Merlin staggered into the door to the physician's chambers.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed awkwardly, then fled the room again. That was the last thing he'd expected to see. Well maybe not the last thing. If he'd walked in to find Gaius turned into a 10-foot squirrel, or King Uther in a dress with Geoffrey of Monmouth he would have been even more surprised, not to mention disturbed. Still, he hadn't anticipated Arthur and Gwen choosing this place to stage a romantic encounter. Knowing his dramatic arrival hadn't gone unnoticed, he re-entered guiltily. His eyes widened with shock when the door slammed shut behind him and he found himself with his back against the wall with a sword pointed at his head.

"Merlin! You're alive?!" Gwen was the first to speak.

"Yes, I think so." He wriggled his fingers for good measure. "Yes, I'm pretty sure I'm alive," he laughed. Gwen and Arthur were staring back at him gravely. Merlin frowned. "Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

Neither said anything. The prince replied by raising his sword closer to Merlin, his expression radiating cold fire.

"Arthur will you put that thing down. I don't want to sound finicky, but the threat of imminent death is beginning to wear a little thin."

"Well apparantly you're dead already, so I fail to see the problem," Arthur finally spat.

"I'm _not_ dead, honestly. See?" Merlin threw his arms wide and smiled stupidly.

"Arthur, I don't know what's going on, but maybe you should calm down," said Gwen.

"This isn't Merlin."

"I am!"

"Why are you doing this?" shouted Arthur.

"Arthur, please," implored Gwen.

"Stay back. He's dangerous."

"No, I'm not."

"What if this _is _Merlin?" she said, confronting the prince.

"Who else would I be?" Merlin was starting to worry now.

"He's a sorcerer."

_Not again_, Merlin thought. This was turning into a habit he really needed to break. Still, being a sorcerer didn't explain why the two of them both seemed to be under the impression that he was dead, or that he might not even be Merlin at all. Although he did face weird and wonderful scenarios on a regular basis, he was still pretty confident he fulfilled the criteria of being alive and very much himself. For the second time in as many days, Merlin found himself in a state of complete bemusement, although he was fairly sure this time that the predicament he was in had nothing to do with his own magical abilities being discovered. He was not reassured by this.

"You killed Merlin, then you used magic to steal his face. I want to know why."

"Arthur," Merlin begged. It was obvious now that this wasn't a joke. For some reason Arthur believed that he, Merlin, was dead – that he wasn't in fact Merlin and that he was responsible for his death. Now Arthur was within inches of killing him because of this. It was terrifying, not because he might die, but what Arthur had become because he had.

"ANSWER ME! Did you want to get to me, to my father. Is that it?"

"I swear to you. I. Am. Merlin. Please, just explain what's happening – why you both think I've died – so I can prove that I'm me."

"I think he's telling the truth."

"NO! I will not hear a sorcerer's lies. Merlin is dead because of him."

"Gaius said he wasn't killed by magic," Gwen pointed out.

"And a sorcerer can still kill by other means, especially if he wanted to hide himself."

"But why would a sorcerer want to kill Merlin? Why would he leave him to be found if he wanted to fake his identity? It makes no sense."

Arthur had been thinking the same thing. The trouble was, none of the alternatives seemed to make any sense either. His mind was resolute; there was but one truth. This impostor had murdered his friend and he would pay the price.

"Arthur, just look at him for a moment."

Arthur saw the man in front of him. He saw that familiar face and it was wrong. He'd been fooled too often. He wasn't going to succumb to his weaknesses this time.

"Arthur Pendragon, I cannot let you do this." Gwen stepped in front of him. "Not until we know for sure that this isn't Merlin. You're upset, we both are, but if you killed him without knowing for certain you'd never forgive yourself, and... I'm not sure I could forgive you."

Arthur let his sword drop as he looked at Gwen. Why did she have to be so smart, so caring, so infuriatingly forthright when it really mattered. She was right. He had to know for sure.

"And if I was a dangerous sorcerer wanting to kill you I would've probably done it already and saved you a lot of fuss," Merlin piped up.

"Oh shut up, Merlin!" Arthur snapped automatically. His mind suddenly wavered when he realised what he'd said. How could he have slipped up like that? A dark veil began to slowly lift and his eyes softened. For the first time he looked, _really looked_, at the young lad who had burst in minutes ago.

"Merlin?"

"Hello!" Merlin waved.

"You're you?"

"Yes," he nodded, smiling.

If this was an enchantment, it was a damn good one. Every sorcerer he had previously met had an air of nobility about them. They held themselves with dignity and poise. They had pride and an over-inflated ego which no degree of false modesty could ever fully conceal. Here before him was this tall, stick of a man, puppy-eyed, a pathetic grin now plastered across his face. A stray tuft of hair was sticking up on the back of his head at a jaunty angle and he was covered from head to toe in... well, Arthur didn't really want to think about it.

"You smell revolting," he said impassively.

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

Arthur's mouth twitched upwards slightly, but this wasn't the time for banter. He couldn't allow himself to be wholly convinced of the fact that this man was indeed his servant, but now it at least seemed possible and that gave him a positive thought to cling onto; it was far better than the alternative. There would be time to reassure himself later.

"You need to see this," he told Merlin.

The three of them moved over to the bed and Arthur pulled back the sheet that was covering the corpse beneath.

Even though Merlin, had half expected what he saw, he still took at step back. The resemblance was uncanny. While he knew that the person lying there wasn't him, being hit in the face by your own mortality felt very disconcerting. He studied 'himself' more closely. Every feature was perfect, yet something about his appearance wasn't right. Perhaps it was because he had only ever seen himself as a reflection, but it felt like more. There was no specific detail that was imperfect, rather the whole image seemed thin and slightly transparent. There was something, or rather someone, hiding beneath the mask, but he couldn't make them out. Looking back up at Arthur and Gwen, who were eying him intently, he correctly surmised that he was the only one to notice this effect and so kept quiet.

"So, what's going on?" asked Arthur.

"Why are you asking me?"

"Well for a start, there's two of you," said Arthur

"Well, _I_ honestly don't know and he's not saying much," replied Merlin, indicating the body. "It must be the work of magic."

"You don't say."

Gwen shook her head. Sarcasm was going to get them nowhere. There was a brief moment when no-one spoke and the faint shuffling of footsteps could be heard.

"Arthur," She hissed.

Arthur had already noticed it too. Someone was coming up the corridor outside and was about to enter.

"Get down," whispered Arthur.

"What?!" Merlin exclaimed loudly.

"Shhhhh!"

"Do they all...? Ow!" He already had Arthur's hand on his head, forcing him under the bed.

When the door opened and Gaius entered, Arthur relaxed and heard Gwen breath a sigh of relief. Gaius looked at them, a single eyebrow raised suspiciously. His eyebrow almost shot to the ceiling when Merlin head emerged from under the bed.

"Right," said Arthur. "Perhaps now we can have some answers."

* * *

**I'm sorry to say there will be no more quick updates from now on. I will definitely continue at a slower rate, but my project director might kill me if I don't complete my report. If I don't update at all, assume that he has. I can't help it, for some bizarre reason I find Merlin so much more fun to write about than the chemistry and therapeutic effects of carbon monoxide releasing molecules. I really ought to go and do some more work in the lab too now :( **

**If you are liking this so far please let me know!**


	5. How Do You Solve A Problem Like Merlin?

**(Edited and reposted to correct a minor typing mistake I'd missed.)**

**Mega apologies for the long update, but you were warned. Before you get too excited. This chapter contains none of the things I promised. It is only the very beginning of what I'd intended to be a much longer chapter, but I have to get on with work and I will spend hours trying to finish this otherwise. So this chapter is pretty much now a filler and a very short one. Sorry! :( It's mostly dialogue again because I can't make the characters shut up. I promise wholeheartedly that more will happen in the next chapter, which will continue where this left off, and you'll start to get some of the answers you want.**

**Thanks as usual for those who added to favs/alerts and of course to my lovely reviewers.**

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**Chapter 5**

"If I may, sire. I think we've established by now who this is," Gaius interrupted.

"I quite agree," said Merlin.

"I've just one more question," Arthur assured him.

Merlin sighed. It was inevitable, he supposed, that he would be subject to interrogation to prove his identity. Despite Arthur now accepting him, he understood the prince's need for complete certainty. As king, he would need to consider all evidence objectively, with a clear head and he'd overreacted somewhat already . He couldn't afford another lapse in judgement. And so it was that Merlin found himself sat on a wooden stool while Arthur perched on the end of the table and bombarded him with questions. The most infuriating thing was that Merlin was forced to lie through his teeth – again – so that his responses tallied with Arthur's version of events. He hoped that his meaningful looks at Gaius had gone unnoticed during these moments, there appeared to be an entire unspoken conversation going on that Gwen and Arthur were blissfully unaware of.

It had at least become clear that Arthur was returning to his usual self – "You're actually enjoying this, aren't you?" Merlin had complained – but even so, being asked to roll up his trousers to reveal yesterday's bruising, had been a bit unreasonable. Merlin was relieved that Gaius had finally decided to put a stop to the proceedings. There were after all, more important issues to deal with. Nevertheless, Arthur still had one more thing he wanted to ask.

"If you were asleep in the stables all this time, how come you weren't woken by the bell?"

"Ah! Uh, I don't know," Merlin answered almost truthfully. He had been sleeping remarkably heavily of late now he no longer had the voice of Kilgharrah roaring in his mind every night. Compared with a dragon's telepathic rages, the clamouring of bells was practically a lullaby. It was probably for the best that he chose not to relate this fact to the prince. "It must be overwork," he groaned. "Day in day out, I'm forced to do no end of ridiculous chores for my overbearing master. I must have collapsed out of shear exhaustion. There may be something wrong with me. I should probably have a few days off just to be on the safe side. What do you think?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head exasperatedly.

"Alright, so you're definitely Merlin, though I am beginning to see the negative side of that."

Merlin smiled.

"So who's the other man and why does he look like you," Gwen being the one to voice what the four of them were all thinking.

"Who it is, I cannot say. As for his appearance it could be a spell of transfiguration, by which the body has been physically manipulated by magic to assume the form of another, or perhaps a shape-shifting beast of some kind, although thankfully both of these are quite rare," Gaius explained. "In all likelihood, this is some form of illusion and the true person's appearance has been concealed by means of a potion or enchantment. I will not be able to ascertain more until I have completed a thorough examination of the body."

"We need to find out something before long. Merlin can't stay here forever and if my father finds him, he won't chance letting a potential sorcerer walk free. I would speak out for you obviously," Arthur turned to Merlin, "But I fear he would have you killed. There is obviously a threat to the kingdom, whatever that may be, but it is imperative we gather physical evidence before confronting the king," he said, taking command over the situation.

Merlin noticed an flash of unease come over Gwen and knew she was remembering her own experiences at the hands of Uther.

"Depending on the strength of the enchantment, it may yet break on its own possibly within hours," Gaius told them.

"Let's hope so," said Arthur.

"Until then I will do all I can," assured Gaius.

"If there's anything either of us can do..."

"I think Gaius may want some time with Merlin, don't you?" Gwen murmured to Arthur.

"Oh. Yes. Of course." he faltered, then made for the door. "Oh, and Merlin," he said, turning back.

"Yes?"

"Try and be careful."

"You know me, I'm always careful."

"That's what worries me."

"It's not like I haven't hidden in the castle before. Rather successfully I might add."

"If I find you under my bed again."

"You won't, I swear."

"Because if I do." Arthur pointed an accusing finger. Gwen wasn't sure what to make of all this.

"I promise."

"Good." He shot Merlin a final dubious look, before departing with Gwen.

* * *

Gaius knew he should be working on getting to the bottom of this mystery, but he couldn't take his eyes off the living breathing Merlin. The man who'd given his life a new purpose, filling a gap he never even knew existed. Here he was, after all the dangers he had faced, alive and well. With each new threat Merlin went to confront, Gaius knew and feared what might come of it, but he couldn't prevent the boy from fulfilling his destiny. It was as inevitable as day and night, as life and death itself, that Merlin would follow the path to greatness that he was meant to follow.

"Do you really think the enchantment will lift on its own?" Merlin asked him.

"I suppose it's possible," He replied. Knowing that the only reason he had said such a thing was to keep the prince at bay. "I do have every confidence in your abilities however."

"I'll check the book." He regarded himself. "I'll get changed first, then I'll get the book."

"Merlin."

Merlin turned back curiously.

"Come here." Gaius enveloped him in a hug. "I thought I'd lost you."

"You know me. You're not going to be rid of me that easily." More serious thoughts of love and appreciation leaked out from behind Merlin's cheery remark. Gaius acknowledged this and smiled.

"The fact you've managed to stay in one piece thus far is nothing short of astounding."

Merlin pulled back.

"Sorcerers, dragons, magically created doubles, sometimes I wish I just lived a peaceful life."

"You wouldn't want that. You'll find they can get exceedingly boring."

"Why does _my _destiny have to be so complicated? I've got to keep a big-headed prince alive long enough for him to become king, unite Albion, restore magic and most difficult of all, I've got to keep him from being a complete prat."

"And you're doing a splendid job," Gaius reassured him.

"I just wish I didn't have to hide all of this all the time," Merlin sighed.

"I know. One day Arthur will be ready to learn the truth. Of that I am certain,"

"He wouldn't even believe me if I told him."

"You and Arthur view the world in very different ways. You were born with magic, you understand it in a way that others would struggle to grasp. You probably don't even realise how unique that perspective is. He, by contrast has has had to learn from his own experiences with magic, which have been none too pleasant as I'm sure you'll agree. Arthur is a fighter and he views magic as a particularly dangerous weapon that could be used against him."

"Sometimes I think he's changing," said Merlin thoughtfully. "Then at other times I know I couldn't possibly tell him my secret. Just yesterday, he made it perfectly clear behind his stupid remarks that no good could ever come of magic."

"The prince considers you a close friend, that much should be apparent, especially now. Given his first impressions of you, that in itself is a minor miracle. When the time comes he will decide what is most important to him and after today I think he'll begin to realise what actually matters," Gaius told him wisely. "Now come on, we've got work to do."

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**Sorry again for not giving you any explanations yet. The enchantment on Merlin 2 WILL be lifted in the next chapter, that bit has been written, and you'll find out about other stuff too. Sorry also for the long update, expect more though.**

**Reviews always welcome!**


	6. Raw Magic

**Well I finally found time to write some more. Well I didn't actually have the time, but wrote some more anyway. In this chapter you will find out who Merlin 2 is. I hope it's not too anticlimactic, but there will be some new ideas introduced which should be interesting. Is that actually a plot I see lingering in the distance? You may still have some questions after this chapter. It will take a couple more to clear up what's happened so far. Explanations will make way for some action by chapter 9 (according to plan). **

**Thanks for reviews etc. I know the last chapter wasn't that great. Not sure if this meets up to expectations either. I don't actually know what anyone's expectations were if you had any, but they seemed high – erk! Oh btw, _unwréon_ means to uncover or reveal (I hope) and _Heolstor_ means concealment/hiding place (noun) or dark shadowy (adj).**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 6**

After going to his room and finally getting himself cleaned up, Merlin removed the book of magic Gaius had given him from its hiding place. He sat on his bed and unbuckled the clasp on the leather-bound tome. Resting it on his lap and flicking through its yellowing leaves, he wondered how he ever managed to find anything. He couldn't fault the presentation. The pages were beautifully transcribed and ornately decorated, but were infuriatingly arranged at random. A charm to cure boils followed a ritual to call forth snow. Some organisation certainly wouldn't go amiss. Apparently other sorcerers rarely found themselves in a hurry; in fact a spell that turned hair green strongly suggested that some had far too much time on their hands. Merlin _was_ in a hurry.

There was an easier way to go about this, he decided. Magic. He'd done it before when Arthur was dying. Merlin stood and placed the open book on the crumpled sheets. He closed his eyes and silently willed the book to show him the information he needed. The pages flapped wildly. The first spell he encountered required an artefact belonging to the caster of the enchantment so that was no good. He searched again. The pages stopped on several spells were suitable only for illusions on living persons and a remarkable ointment that would remove most magical influences when applied to any person or object. Unfortunately, one of the key ingredients, an extremely rare herb, had to be picked at full moon, which was three weeks away. Also the final mixture carried a fifty percent chance of causing spontaneous combustion even when applied correctly, which was less than ideal. A flash of gold and a flurry of paper and Merlin eventually came across a handy little spell that seemed perfect. The text beneath the incantation indicated that this was a generic but powerful spell for dispelling illusions. It was certainly worth trying. Committing it to memory, he returned to Gaius's workroom.

"Find anything?" Gaius asked him.

"Maybe. How about you?"

"Not much luck, I'm afraid. If there are any clues, they too have been concealed. An internal examination may give some minor indications of age and background providing the illusion is only skin deep, but we may as well not resort to that until we have tried to remove the enchantment first."

Merlin nodded in agreement. He reached out his hand purposefully trying to visualize the effects of the spell in his mind.

"_U__nwréon_," He recited, eyes flashing gold momentarily.

Nothing.

It was always frustrating when a spell failed to work on the first attempt. Especially to Merlin whose magic came as naturally to him as breathing. Concentrating again, he summoned his power.

"_U__nwréon."_

This time there was a small change. The body still retained the basic appearance of Merlin, but it seemed this aspect had begun to separate and was now like a badly fitting second skin hanging on a figure of incorrect proportions.

"_U__nwréon_," he cried out for a third time. This time his eyes stayed golden, a small fire burning fiercely in each iris as the magic welled up inside him. He directed it at his duplicate, fashioning it into a tool and probing for weaknesses in the enchantment, somewhere he could penetrate the mask. It was no simple task, but finally he found a place to bore through and he could begin to peel away at the illusion. That was when he felt it, an onslaught of power, vigorous and unquenchable, which was forcing him back. It was magic, but alike to nothing Merlin had ever encountered before. This was untamed and savage. But he wasn't about to give up now. He couldn't. He fought, pushing back against the invading power with his mind. A dam against the raging flood. With the flow of foreign magic temporarily halted, the strength of the illusion was already beginning to falter, becoming like a dry and cracking shell. If he acted quickly he should be able to break it before his barrier was overpowered. Merlin willed the person's true image to come forth and break through its disguise. As the spell broke, he felt a link slice in two and the vicious surge of power directed against him abruptly cease. He hadn't fully appreciated what a drain holding it back had caused him and he was thrown off balance. One hand darted out to support himself, the other clutched at his head.

Gaius rushed to Merlin's aid.

"Are you alright?" he said, concerned for his ward.

"Yes. Yes, it's okay. I'm fine." Merlin dismissed his help.

Finally they could look upon the true visage of this posthumous imposter. Eadric.

"Eadric?"

What Merlin had expected, he wasn't quite sure. Someone more familiar, or perhaps a complete unknown. He had thought that once he knew who this person really was, that everything would suddenly become clear. Instead it was still a mess. Some of it seemed logical, and at the same time there were gaps he didn't quite understand. Merlin was reasonably confident that by disguising the body as himself, someone was trying to set him up and that must mean that they knew of his magic. Someone wanted him out of the way and was willing to let someone else dispose of him on their behalf. Merlin flinched at the thought that they had almost succeeded. Did this mean that there was also a link to the accusations Eadric had made against him yesterday? Merlin wasn't sure.

Eadric obviously hadn't seen Merlin's double; he was Merlin's double. So either someone had made Eadric believe he had seen him using magic and had the misfortune to pick the one person in Camelot that Uther would never believe, or it was all coincidence. Eadric had been justifiably considered insane. Gaius had confirmed this and Merlin recalled overhearing the older servants gossiping about the most recent incident and recalling the time several years ago when Eadric had burst into the court insisting that Prince Arthur had been kidnapped by pixies and replaced by a shape-shifting demon. Once Merlin recovered from the mental image of Arthur's face at that moment – he had dropped the prince's armour and was unable to continue work for ten minutes – he realised that explained why the king was so quick to shrug off Eadric's claims.

Eadric's whole life had been spent declaring the magical activities of others to the king, whilst of sound mind and afterwards. It was perfectly probable that Merlin was just next on the list of many who had been 'falsely' accused. If the sorcerer behind all this merely wanted to make people believe Merlin was dead, then it wouldn't matter whose appearance they changed. Eadric could have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, it begged the question, why would a sorcerer capable of such magic choose to kill their victim with a knife to the throat? This much was still apparent now, after the falsehoods surrounding the murder had been dismissed.

Merlin was about to voice his thoughts to Gaius, but the man seemed more concerned with Eadric. He had found something, a grey power, liberally sprinkled all over the body. With great care, he began to scrape it off Eadric's torso and into a small vessel.

Merlin came over and peered curiously into the bowl. The contents looked like finely ground stone. Knowing better, but feeling an overwhelming compulsion to touch this strange substance, he cautiously took a pinch of the powder. He recoiled as a wave of magical energy exploded up his arm and into his head. He dropped it on reflex but could still feel the residual energy throbbing inside his skull.

"Merlin, what is it?" Gaius asked anxiously, immediately dropping what he was doing.

"It's nothing. That was stupid of me, but I'm fine now. What is this stuff?" He said examining the bowl more closely, taking care not to touch the contents this time.

"Merlin." Gaius wasn't willing to let the matter drop this time.

"Gaius."

"Merlin it is important that you tell me. You felt something didn't you, now and when you lifted the illusion on Eadric."

"Yes," he replied simply.

"Describe it to me."

How could he describe what he'd felt. He wasn't sure he had the right words for it. He tried anyway, feeble though he sounded compared to the intensity of what he'd experienced.

"Powerful magic. The strength behind it was incredible, but I couldn't sense anyone controlling it, just raw energy surging toward me. It felt...fierce. Not evil per se, just wild."

"Then there is but one place this could have originated," Gaius reasoned.

"Where?"

"I only know a small amount," he said gravely. "There are no written accounts. The town of Heolstor was kept secret for a reason."

"What reason?"

"There are certain places where magic is generated, or rather renewed, from within the very Earth itself. The remote town of Heolstor was built next to such a place and the cliffs overlooking the town were said to be charged with magic. Centuries ago, using ancient knowledge, the high priests of the old religion constructed a great column in the caves within the rock face, at the point where the magic was at its strongest in order to harness that power for their own. This was raw magic, as yet untamed by word or ritual or blended with the personality of chosen individuals, but the structure they had built gave them control. Heolstor became a place of magical learning, particularly in the art of illusion. Stone taken from the cliffs was used as a tool, providing a link to the source of power and channelling that energy into creating stronger spells. It is rumoured that illusions created with its aid were more that merely visions and sounds. They could get inside a victim's head, adapt to a person's expectations and fears. Despite having no physical substance in reality, to the person experiencing the illusion they could feel quite solid to the touch and even cause pain."

Merlin shivered. He didn't like where this was going. He let Gaius continue.

"There is little known about the events once the old religion began to die out. Until recently the town was still believed to be but a myth. It's existence remained a secret to most until the time of the Great Purge when it became a refuge, hidden by magic, for magic users hunted by Uther. It survived through that until about 10 years ago, when its location was betrayed to the king. A small army was sent to wipe out this enclave of sorcery. The town was razed and everyone they found was killed. The caves were then searched but nothing was found, no survivors and most significantly no sign of the Pillar of Heolstor."

"So this powdered stone has come from Heolstor cliffs, and it is linked to a centre of raw magic, which is what I felt," Merlin thought aloud as he rationalized things in his head. "But if the Pillar doesn't exist, how is someone controlling that power?"

"They cannot. Therefore it must exist."

"So someone did survive the attack, and hid themselves and the Pillar using magic?"

"I think we can assume as much."

"And now they are trying to have me killed."

"If that is the case then they must know about your abilities, see you as a potential threat and want you out of the way. Yet if they knew you well then I doubt they would have been so careless." Gaius stared sadly. "Either way, I fear this is only the beginning."

* * *

Meanwhile, Arthur paced his chambers thinking. He was contemplating what he would do if they couldn't prove that the incident with Merlin's body was a sham. There was, quite literately, more to this than met the eye and that signified a substantial threat to the kingdom. A threat about which, his father should be told. It was his duty to Camelot. He could prolong the inevitable, but not indefinitely. He knew the dangers of magic. His inaction could lead to the downfall of the kingdom, but if he revealed what he knew, what would that mean for Merlin. So many conflicting feelings swam around inside his head gnawing on his conscience.

Arthur's thought's were interrupted when he heard a polite knocking on his door and so he went to answer.

"Hadwyn?" Arthur said, surprised at being visited personally by one of his knights. Sir Hadwyn bowed his head respectfully.

"I know you were close to your manservant," he began. "I thought you ought to know, a man has just confessed to the murder last night."

* * *

**I couldn't leave it without confusing you still further. No idea when I'll have the next chapter completed. I keep my profile updated with my progress so far to give you some indication. **

**If you've any questions, feedback or random crazy theories I'd love to hear them. I may not always give a straight answer if I think I might spoil something but ask anyway. It helps me judge how well my ideas are coming across and I may well have missed something obvious and stupid. **


	7. The Foundations of Illusion

**I struggled with how to order some of the things in this chapter. I was going to put some of it in the next chapter, but in the end I didn't so this is quite long. It's a little OC heavy which I'm sorry about, but it couldn't really be avoided at this stage. This should tie up the loose ends, such as the circumstances of Eadric's death, as well as introducing some of my baddies. Oh, and apologies towards the end for the dialect of one of by one-off background characters. He's not a local chap. I got a bit carried away there I think :D**

**Thanks again as usual for reviews/favs/alerts. **

**Btw, sorry for any mistakes. I keep correcting it but I've noticed it keeps losing my changes. Typical that it missed the middle out of one of the key sentences. I've finally got round to correcting that now I've spotted it.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Boom! Matthew staggered backwards in shock as the door to his meagre home was thrown open. Technically it was his brother's home. He'd lived here since the cooperage where he'd lived and worked all his life had been rendered inhabitable during the dragon attack. With the main effort being directed the castle and its defences, particularly the rebuilding of the western section which had succumbed to inevitable collapse after the final night of onslaught, most of the town's buildings had yet to be repaired. He was grateful that his brother and his family were not currently at home. Matthew had known this would happen. He wasn't clever or experienced enough to get away with something like this. He'd been desperate. Now all the guilt he'd been experiencing has manifested itself in the form of this giant.

Sir Caradoc's immense frame blocked the doorway, darkening the room, His dark, short cut hair had become plastered to his forehead by the downpour outside. Stooping, he entered the room and was followed in by another knight and four ordinary guards. This second knight was clearly focussed on the job in hand, but beneath the seriousness he seemed to have a much kinder face.

Matthew cowered in what little space remained once Caradoc's entourage had entered. His eyes automatically flashed to a wooden chest in the corner of the room. It was only for a split second, but that was enough. Sir Caradoc motioned for Sir Hadwyn to open it, despite the fact that there were lesser ranked soldiers to order about. Hadwyn withdrew several pieces of blood-soaked attire and Caradoc, turning to Matthew, broke into a cruel grin.

Matthew's confession had been rambling and incoherent, but he'd said enough. Sir Caradoc had laughed callously at Sir Hadwyn when he explained he was going to personally inform the prince that his servant's killer had been caught. Hadwyn watched as Caradoc had Matthew dragged roughly down the corridors. The king would want to talk to him personally. Obviously his crime didn't compare to sorcery, but murder within the city walls was still taken very seriously. Hadwyn made his way to Arthur's chambers and knocked on the door.

"Hadwyn?" Arthur looked troubled. Merlin's death must have hit him harder than he'd thought. Sir Hadwyn bowed his head respectfully.

"I know you were close to your manservant," he began. "I thought you ought to know, a man has just confessed to the murder last night."

"They have?" Hadwyn didn't know why Arthur should be this surprised. He'd admit to himself that they'd been quite fortunate in clearing the matter up so quickly, but it wasn't so extraordinary.

Arthur pushed past him roughly and set off running down the corridor.

"Sire?"

"Thank you," Arthur shouted over his shoulder.

"If you don't mind me asking, Sire, the prisoner is being taken to the king, where are you rushing to?"

Arthur wasn't listening. He was on his way to speak to Merlin again.

He hesitated before entering Gaius workroom. He probably should knock, warn Merlin that it was only him, then he thought against it. Merlin never paid him that courtesy and princes shouldn't need to knock.

"Merlin."

"Arthur! Look, the illusion lifted on its own. It's Eadric."

"Eadric?" Arthur paused. "Look that's not important. Someone's just confessed to the murder."

"Which one?" Gaius asked.

"What do you mean. There's only been one."

"Who have they confessed to killing? Merlin or Eadric?"

Arthur tried to remember what hadwyn had told him and realised he didn't know.

"Does it matter?"

"In terms of the dangers facing Camelot, probably not. In terms of what will happen to Merlin, if this man has killed Eadric then that supports the evidence we have. If not then there is no guarantee that the king will not still suspect Merlin. We believe that Eadric's identity was hidden after his death. If he claims to have killed Eadric then he might be telling the truth, although I doubt he is the sorcerer if that is the case. If he claims to have killed Merlin he is lying and clearly involved. Either way I believe the threat to the kingdom is far greater than we could have imagined. Uther must be informed."

"I'll find out what he knows." Arthur made to leave again. Merlin was on his heels like an eager puppy. "What do you think you're doing?" he exclaimed

"I'm coming with you."

"No you're not. Tell him Gaius."

"He's right, Merlin," Gaius said.

"I can't stay here forever and you've just said we need to tell the king anyway. I'll take that chance."

"You never do anything anyone tells you, do you?" Arthur noted.

"Rarely," Merlin agreed.

Together they set off towards the Great Hall. Gaius shook his head and after going to Merlin's room and making sure the book of magic was hidden – Merlin had rather carelessly left it open on the bed – he followed them.

"I swear I never meant to kill anybody. I just wanted to scare him, to rob him. I thought he might have money on him. I lost everything, and my brother can't really afford to keep me, he has enough mouths to feed. I wanted to do my bit for them. I know it was wrong of me. I tried to frighten him and he starting acting crazy. Gibbering about creatures and voices. He panicked. I panicked. I had a knife."

"So you robbed and killed an innocent man?" Uther demanded an answer. Matthew realised there was no appealling to Uther's compassion. It didn't make any difference what he said anymore and frankly, he no longer cared. There was no getting out of his predicament now.

"I would hardly call him innocent. After what he'd put others through."

"He was a servant to the royal household."

Matthew obviously thought the king was speaking metaphorically because he continued regardless.

"I'm sure he served you well, my lord. Turning in people's family and friends. I never meant to kill him, but he still deserved it, after what he did to his wife."

"Wife?" This wasn't adding up. This didn't sound like his son's idiotic manservant in the slightest. What did that mean. That this man was just raving, or that there was another victim out there and another killer still at large. Uther didn't want to make his ignorance apparent.

"Everyone knows he killed her and got away with it. Course not everyone knew she was a witch. Dangerous wasn't it, with people like him around? I bet she's the reason he went mad in the end. Good for her. Couldn't happen to a more deserving bloke."

That got Uther riled."You've collaborated with sorcerer!"

"I had friends. Friends who were sorcerers. Me and many other people, until you killed them."

"You dare to question my laws. Those who practice magic are evil and those who consort with them are no better. You yourself have confessed to murder. You will be put to death at dawn." Uther gestured two guards to escort Matthew to the cells. He then spoke to Sir Caradoc who was stood at the side of the room.

"What was that about?"

"Your majesty?"

"You told me you'd brought me the man responsible for the death of my son's servant. His account bore no relation to that."

"Sire, the man was clearly a dangerous criminal who was in league with sorcery. Now he can be brought to justice. I thought you'd be pleased."

"Now it seems there has been another killing, under my very nose, without my knowledge. That is not pleasing news."

"I'm afraid I cannot explain that."

"I believe I can, father," Arthur interrupted with perfect timing. He was accompanied by Gaius and...

_Merlin_

"Guards!" Uther yelled. The remaining soldiers sprang to attention, but Arthur shielded Merlin.

"Father, let me explain."

"Who is that man? He cannot be your servant. I saw his lifeless body with my own eyes."

"This is Merlin, the body we found was not. It was Eadric who was killed."

Suddenly Matthew's story fell into context. Uther felt a twinge of regret. Eadric had been a trusted ally and close to being a friend. But that was a long time ago and he was no longer the same man. How could this be? Uther had seen them carry Merlin's body away. Arthur had believed too that he was dead, and Gaius. They knew Merlin better than anybody so what had caused them to change their minds? Perhaps they were bewitched.

"You have evidence of this?"

"The body was transformed by illusion," Gaius told him. "That enchantment lifted earlier today. This Merlin, the real Merlin, returned to his chambers shortly after the body was brought there, after you sent for me."

"How can you be sure he's not a sorcerer himself? He could be tricking you even now to infiltrate the very heart of Camelot itself. Uther felt the familiar, overwhelming sense of hatred that coursed through him whenever the subject of magic occurred. The feeling that barricaded his own personal grief in a tiny, dark corner of his mind where no-one, especially himself could ever reach it. "Why am I only hearing of this now?" the king asked Arthur.

"I feared your reaction. I assure you I have questioned him thoroughly and he hasn't shown any ill-intent towards me or others."

"But it is not logical for someone to fake the death of a servant."

Arthur had wondered about this too. He still didn't know what to make of it, but he had to tell his father something.

"I thought people who practised magic didn't make logical decisions? You told me that I was weak for showing my feelings, that people would seek to use that weakness against me. I believe you were correct. Perhaps someone believed they could get to Camelot's prince by exploiting his emotions." It was a flimsy explanation, but one which Uther seemed to buy.

"Typical underhand, sorcerer behaviour. I'm glad you've come to see that there is sense in what I ask of you, even if I can, at times, appear too harsh. This matter must be dealt with immediately. The sorcerer will be found and killed."

"There is more, sire," Gaius interjected. "We found a stone residue on Eadric's body. I believe it to come from the cliffs of Heolstor."

Uther fell silent. Behind Gaius, Arthur paled.

"There is nothing left of Heolstor, and the stories surrounding it were rumours and nothing more," Uther proclaimed with cautious certainty.

"The stories are true, sire. The town was built on a centre of raw magic."

"There's no such thing."

"And if someone is wielding that power, there is no telling what they could do."

For Uther the notion that magic could be a natural occurrence repulsed him, he still couldn't allow himself to believe that. However, if there was a powerful sorcerer out there, on the verge of attack, that was a threat he took very seriously indeed. "How can we stop them."

"The Pillar of Heolstor must be destroyed, thus removing the means by which the sorcerer is able to control its power."

"Last time we were there we found nothing."

"It must have been hidden by magic, but it was there. This is the only option I can think of."

"I can have a group of knights ready to leave at dawn," Arthur proposed.

"Very well," Uther said. He turned to Gaius. "If it were not for your experience regarding these matters I would deem this a fool's errand. I hope for Camelot's sake that I am wrong."

"I hope for Camelot's sake that you are right," Gaius murmured.

* * *

_(Elsewhere, the same day)_

Raindrops were peppering the murky grey surface of the river as the prow of a barge cut through it. This was the easiest way to transport the heavy cargo of stone from the nearest quarry to Camelot castle. However, this was as near as the waterways would allow. On the bank, piles of stone were accumulating, waiting to be taking via the forest road to the city. It was an arduous task, but at least the carters were prospering in these difficult times.

One such man was locked in conversation with one of his younger associates.

"They say this entire operation's cursed."

"Don't talk daft lad," the elder said.

"You must have spoken to people though?"

"Aye, some," he admitted, "Ah've never met such a superstitious lot. It's nobbut fairy stories."

"Some of them say they've blackouts, periods when they can't remember anything that happened. I say it's sorcery."

The older man laughed. "Or it could be summat to do with t'fact that t'King's Head serves best ale in Camelot. Ah wouldn' worry thissen abaht it."

"What about Simon of Langhithe?"

"What abaht 'im?"

"He was telling everyone who'd listen about a woman with two faces and then the next day they found him floating in the river."

"If brains wer water Simon wouldn' 'ave enough to drown a louse. If tha's askin' me, ee'd 'ad one too many an' fell in. These things 'appen."

"Well what about her?"

"Who?"

"Her," he said, indicating a blonde woman who looked in her mid-thirties and was coming over. "She's always here. The dock's not exactly a place for a woman."

"Looks to 'ave one face to me. Not a bad lookin' 'un though."

"Greetings gentlemen," she said politely.

"An' good day to thee Miss...?

"Ailith," she replied, "And indeed it is. They still have not finished the repairs at the the castle, I see."

"Nay lass, but it's a nice bit of work for some of us. Leggo me arm boy."

But the younger man was staring in terror at the woman's reflection in a puddle. The other followed his gaze.

"What the ruddy 'ell?!"

"_Ofergitolest,_" she commanded.

The shock drained from his dark dark brown eyes in an instant and they became vacant. His companion bore a similar look. Ailith crouched beside a pile of building blocks and placed her palm flat on the nearest.

"_Wiþerstede_," she whispered. The surrounding air shimmered and the stone disappeared, crumbling into nothingness momentarily, before the dust re-materialised and reassembled in the exact same spot. The two men considered this perfectly routine behaviour. Immensely satisfied with her work, she wandered off, muttering something before disappearing down the street leading into woods.

The carters shook their heads and their faces returned to their normal expressions.

"As ah told thee," he resumed as if nothing had happened, "Tha's mithering abaht nowt."

"You're probably right," the younger said.

The rain continued to fall heavily, pattering on the dark green leaves overhead and cascading in mini waterfalls to the sodden earth below. The squelching of feet alerted Ailith to the presence of another.

"Well it's about time," she scolded.

Mildryd might have been shocked by her sister's abrupt manner, but now she'd become accustomed to it. That didn't mean she was comfortable with it, in fact this new Ailith terrified her at times, but she did as she was told – in a manner of speaking.

"Is it done?" Ailith asked.

"Yes, it's done," Mildryd replied, pulling her long cloak around her for warmth and wondering why they couldn't have met some place drier and warmer.

"Show me."

Mildryd had been dreading this moment. She knew that her sister would want evidence that her task was completed, especially as she'd been so vocal in her reservations to this entire scheme. She'd seen the future in her dreams. She knew that Arthur, as king, with Merlin at his side had the potential to bring peace and prosperity to the kingdom. She'd shared these visions with her two older siblings and they had listened, at least at first. But that was only one possible future, and if events unfolded as they had planned, it would not come to pass. She could see things from her sisters' perspective. She after all had also watched her people massacred at Heolstor ten years previous. She longed to witness Uther's demise, a part of her yearned to be the one responsible, to watch the mighty tyrant writhing in agony at the hand of magic he despised so much. In the end, what did a kingdom mean to her, she was just one person. Her own best interests would suffice for her for now. Uther, Arthur, Merlin, the people of Camelot, they were all strangers, but she had to live with her sisters and she hadn't the will to turn against them in the physical sense. She was conflicted, not cut out to make difficult choices. As she'd crept though the shadows the previous night, she still hadn't decided whether she would try to warn Merlin, or kill him when she finally confronted him. Both instances could have potentially resulted in her own death, but she had to choose. She remembered her delight and relief when the perfect opportunity threw itself into her lap, a third choice. This way she could trick Ailith, and as for Merlin, maybe they'd managed to figure out the illusion and prepare themselves, somehow. If not... well, at least the task she'd been assigned would have been completed in her absence. It was no longer her responsibility

"Show me."

Mildryd willed the image of Merlin's body to the forefront of her mind and using the same magical link that allowed sorcerers to communicate telepathically, projected it into Ailith's mind. She tried to conceal her emotions, hoping that her deception wouldn't be noticed. A fake memory would surely be detected but this was real enough.

A sly grin on Ailith's face indicated that she was satisfied. The presence of a sorcerer in Camelot could have compromised her plan, if he'd been as powerful as Mildryd claimed. That was a matter of considerable doubt in her mind, but it paid not to take chances. Now he was out of the way she was free to proceed with her schemes for revenge.

"We will proceed with the preparations immediately," she said.

"So soon?" Mildryd looked shocked.

"I have made another switch. There should now be sufficient for the magic to work. Not having second thoughts again are we?"

"No I..."

"Well then, we shall return. _Edhwierfe __oþ Heolstor._" Ailith's eyes shone. A wind whipped up violently, encircling the pair and sending leaves flying around them. Then they vanished.

* * *

**I couldn't find the actual teleportation spells used in the show and my iTunes eps don't have subtitles, thus I'm resorting to inaccurate Old English again to make up all the spells. **

**Please keep reviewing. It makes me happy when I know my efforts are appreciated!**

**While you're waiting for the next chapter there's a couple of teaser pictures I made for later on in the story with links on my profile.**


	8. Dawn Breaks

**Leon lives! Now they've revealed he's coming back for series 3, I felt I had to fit him in somewhere. I _really_ haven't been nice to him, but I have my reasons (other than being evil). When I planned this I was assuming he and the others were killed.**

**You did get what was going on with the stone in the last chapter, right? I can't always tell. If not, it will be mentioned in the chapter after this one, but I do recommend re-reading the Heolstor explanation Gaius gives in chapter 6 if your memory is anything like as poor as mine.**

**Anyway, enjoy the latest chapter!

* * *

**

**Chapter 8**

Very little moonlight seeped down through the hole in the roof which opened the vast cavern to the starry night sky. Instead the soaring, craggy cave walls were illuminated by several glowing blue orbs which hung pulsating above the heads of the three witches. The dark shape of the Pillar of Heolstor loomed in the middle of them, rugged and ancient, yet standing tall and proud, reaching up toward the heavens.

Heads flung backwards, arms stretched out wide. The sisters began their chanting.

"_Síen wé gelæcaþ. Scinn binnan þinum héafdum."_

The air began throbbing with the essence of magic and the ground beneath their feet trembled ominously. A golden stream rose up from the stone floor and licked the base of the column before surging upward accompanied by two more tendrils of energy, culminating in a seething mass of power at its peak.

"_Se hildeswég áhýde þæt sóþ."_

The magic cascaded from the pinnacle in a fiery waterfall, spiralling outwards before reaching the ground, twisting in the air and sculpting new shapes and images. It was more than just a pretty light show, however. Sounds, colours, sensations and emotions were weaving themselves into the mix. The atmosphere became colder. There was a wild screeching, a flash of claws, a snapping of jaws, the scent of blood in the air.

Ailith allowed herself a self-assured smile. Everything was falling into place.

* * *

Merlin thrashed in his bed.

"No," he groaned, kicking his sheets onto the floor. "No."

Images and voices that did not belong were pounding in his skull. He felt like the walls were closing in around him. The same sounds, the same shapes were coming from every direction and drawing nearer, overwhelming him. He could just make out a few fragments of speech from amongst the chaos, "_Brégnes,"__ "Blódsihte," "__Wíteláe," _but he recognised them as words of magic.

An abrupt surge of power woke him with a jolt and then it was over. Except it wasn't over. Merlin knew that whatever had just happened was laying the foundations for some greater feat of sorcery. The magic proper would begin at dawn. Merlin didn't know how he knew this, he just did. Whatever lay in store, Camelot wasn't ready. Camelot couldn't be ready. They needed to be ready. There was only one thing on his mind; he needed to warn Arthur.

"Merlin?" queried Gaius groggily as the boy swept past him. "It's the middle of the night. You should be asleep. The prince will want you rested. You've got a long journey ahead of you tomorrow." Gaius noticed the distress Merlin was in. "What's wrong?"

"I was woken by magic."

"Here in Camelot?"

"Yes.... No.... I don't know. It was everywhere, Gaius. We're too late."

"Where are you going?"

"I have to warn people."

"And what are you planning to tell them?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Merlin."

"I'll be careful, I promise." Merlin's eyes pleaded with the old man. "I have to try." And with that he left.

* * *

Arthur was out of bed in an instant as Merlin burst into the room.

"Merlin. What do you think you're doing? Unless the castle is on fire you'd better have a damn good explanation for this.

"The sorcerer is going to attack Camelot this morning."

"Riiight. And you know this, how?"

"Erm." Merlin could not say that he had the ability to sense powerful magic. He should probably have concocted a plausible story before coming here, but there wasn't time. Instead he fidgeted awkwardly.

"I see." Arthur placed his hand round Merlin's shoulder and sat him down on the end of his bed. "Did you have a bad dream?"

This was just typical. At a time like this, Arthur not only refused to believe him, but he was his usual patronizing self.

"I'm serious!"

"Of course you are. Look, it's understandable to be nervous after all that's happened, but I promise you everything is going to be fine."

"It's not going to be fine," Merlin snapped, standing up again quickly. "Honestly. For once in your life could you just listen to me. Just once, could you take me seriously?." Arthur was taken aback by Merlin's abruptness.

"I'm listening, Merlin," said Arthur sincerely, "But I don't know what you want me to do. The castle is already on high alert and the guard has been doubled, so unless you can be more specific." Merlin shook his head. "Well then. Try and get some sleep. I don't want you falling off your horse again. I'll see you in a few hours."

Merlin turned back as if to speak, but he didn't know what say. Arthur was right. He didn't know any specific details, just had a very bad feeling. There was nothing that could be done. If the sorcerer was harnessing the power of raw magic the only way to stop them was by going to Heolstor and they couldn't do that in time. Ignoring Gaius upon his return, Merlin went back to his room. After more than an hour flicking through the pages of the book of magic and finding nothing of any use, he gave up and lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He wouldn't sleep again, he just waited in silence, his pounding heart counting down the passage of time until dawn.

* * *

Arthur lay in bed deep in thought. Merlin had got him worried. Despite the fact there were no grounds to support his warnings, Merlin's track record was uncannily good in these matters, although it pained Arthur to admit it. He felt like he should be doing something, but what could he do? If Gaius was right, which he usually was, the only way to stop this 'raw magic' – whatever that meant – was to destroy some pillar in a cave. As soon as it was light they would be going to do just that. He'd already packed everything for the journey, or at least Merlin had. All that remained was to eat, dress and saddle the horses. The kingdom had dealt with magic and sorcery before now, and somehow, against all odds it always managed to pull through. This time couldn't be any worse. Surely. He rolled over, closed his eyes and tried, with no success, to get some rest.

* * *

The pale glow of dawn crept softly across the buildings of town. Outside the people were stirring and getting ready for another working day. Trader's were setting up shop. Children were running outside to play and being told off by their mothers for not eating their breakfast first. Women were gossiping in the street and men were arguing.

"I don't care how many ruddy gargoyles your master wants sculpting, this load is for the south-east section of the town and that's that."

In the castle itself Arthur Pendragon looked from his window out over the city as Merlin fiddled with the remaining pieces of his armour.

"We're still here then. And it looks like it's going to turn out a nice day," Arthur said brightly.

"For the moment," replied Merlin grimly.

"Oh won't you please cheer up. I can't stand you when you're like this."

"Sorry."

"What, no impertinent comments, no sarcastic remarks, just sorry. I'm really looking forward to you being on this trip with me."

"Sorry."

"Is there an echo in here? Honestly Merlin," Arthur said, snatching his sword from Merlin's hand, "I don't know what gets into you sometimes."

"My lord," Sir Hadwyn appeared in the open doorway. "We're ready to leave."

"Very well, I'll be there shortly." Hadwyn bowed and left. Arthur turned to his servant. "Are you coming?"

"Sorry?" Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Are you coming with me?"

"Are you actually asking me?"

"Yes, I'm asking you. You're obviously bothered by something. If you don't want to come, because you're anxious about the journey, or you're worried something might happen while you're gone, then I won't force you." _ I'm sure your presence in Camelot would make anyone think twice before attacking_, Arthur thought cynically.

"No, I'm coming."

Arthur smiled. "Good," he said, slapping Merlin on the back. "Now let's go catch this sorcerer."

They walked together outside the castle to the main gate where the other knights were waiting with the horses. As they passed through the main courtyard, Merlin spotted the executioners block which reminded him that Matthew was due to be killed here soon. Crowds were already gathering to witness the event. Merlin had been in Camelot long enough to witness many men and women put to death, and each time he felt sick as he imagined his own head beneath the axe as it fell. Every time there was the same feeling that next it could be him.

Suddenly there was a shout from one of the soldiers patrolling the walls.

"Sound the alarm!"

They looked up to see what was wrong.

"What is it?" Arthur cried back.

"Over there look."

Arthur followed where the man was pointing but could see nothing. He dashed up the steps onto the battlements and naturally Merlin was right behind him. He looked again and this time he could make out a dark shape in the air in the distance, flying with bat-like wings purposefully towards them. His face fell in shock. Already the other soldiers were beginning to panic.

"It's the dragon. The Great Dragon has returned."

"QUIET!" Arthur bellowed. "Pull yourselves together. The dragon is dead." He discretely shot his servant an accusing look, but Merlin nodded in conformation.

"There is no way that can be the dragon." Merlin said. He spoke the truth. If it was he would know.

Though black creature was moving towards them at an alarming speed, it was still difficult to make out, but Merlin's eyesight was better than most.

"It's a wyvern," Merlin said. "They look a bit like dragons but they're smaller and more aggressive."

"_More _aggressive?"

"Apparently. They also only have two legs instead of four and don't breathe fire, but they are poisonous." _And they can't talk_, Merlin added to himself. Arthur glared at him strangely. "I read it in one of Gaius's books," he explained.

Arthur squinted at the airborne beast trying to work out how Merlin could tell so much at this distance. He thought his own eyesight was impressive. He decided not to question it. He would see for himself soon enough. The wyvern, or whatever it was, was fast approaching.

"Gather the rest of the knights," Arthur shouted down to Sir Hadwyn, "And make sure the main square is cleared." Arthur and Merlin stood in the centre of a group of soldiers who lined the parapet armed with crossbows.

The wyvern's wings beat the air in powerful determined strokes. It's long, scaly neck protruded like a dart aiming directly for the castle and it's red eyes shone with menace.

"Looks like you were right about today," Arthur said to Merlin.

"Told you so," Merlin replied. Arthur deliberately trod on his foot.

"Hold your fire until it gets near!" Arthur commanded his men.

The wyvern's flapping grew louder.

"HOLD!"

It's barbed tail undulated threateningly as it flew.

"HOLD!"

The wyvern let out a blood-curdling shriek, which Merlin had heard before.

"NOW!"

The soldiers unleashed a volley of crossbow-bolts. The wyvern twisted in the air avoiding each one. It was surprisingly agile. Arthur drew his sword and attempted to strike the belly of the beast as it passed inches above his head. He could only assume he'd missed as the the wyvern whirled round in the air, tail lashing out in a furious stroke causing the men to scramble out of it's path. Merlin stumbled, but was grabbed by Arthur. The soldier who had sounded the alarm was less fortunate, lost his balance and plummeted from the narrow walkway onto the hard stone flags beneath, landing with a sickening crunch.

The execution postponed, Sir Leon, Sir Caradoc and several other knights charged out of the castle into the evacuated courtyard. There was a screech as the wyvern veered overhead before landing with a thud before them. Supporting it's upper body on its folded wings, it's head thrashed wildly, snapping at the assembling army. Arthur's section joined them from the opposite gate.

"Surround the creature," The prince ordered. The knights formed a tight circle, enclosing the savage animal. The wyvern writhed, tail beating against the shield barricade. It rose up on its legs, wings outstretched in a display of aggression. Without warning a spear was launched directly at its chest. It missed its target and Sir Algar was impaled.

"Caradoc!" Arthur barked across the square at the offending knight.

Merlin didn't understand what he had just seen. The spear hadn't missed, at least that's not what he saw, it just continued on its path never impacting it's target.

The wyvern whipped its neck around again and it's soulless eyes focused on a single prey, one of the youngest knights. It lunged forwards, jaws wide open revealing rows of jagged teeth. Arthur sprung into action to protect his men. Leaping into the circle, he charged at the creature. Distracted it turned instead on the prince. Arthur twisted out of its way at the last moment and brought his sword down in a smooth motion to sever its neck. He experienced a brief moment of satisfaction followed by complete horror as he realised the wyvern was completely unharmed. Instead of him it had attacked the next nearest person. Sir Leon writhed on the floor screaming as he was mauled. Arthur hacked at it again and again but his weapon was useless.

Merlin couldn't just stand back and do nothing. Wyverns were not supposed to be invulnerable to weapons and yet this one was. He had no idea whether his magic would work, but he had to try, even if it was a risk. He didn't want to chance moving and enchanting swords or spears in front of all these people but he knew a few spells that could be used without drawing attention to himself.

"_Swilte_."

Nothing. The wyvern continued to tear into its victim unimpeded.

"_Slíð ælwiht._"

Still nothing.

"_Forsende. _**"**

The beast remained unharmed but turned to face him, ripped and bloody flesh hanging from it's maw. It looked intently at him with a gaze that was not it's own and tilted its head, as if a human was regarding him through the creatures eyes. Then it spread its wings and launched itself into the air, disappearing into the clouds.

Arthur observed the scene. Sir Algar was dead. He turned to Sir Leon who now had Merlin kneeling beside him in a pool of blood. The knight's upper body was ripped to shreds. Arthur was astonished when Sir Leon stirred.

"He's alive," Merlin said, "But I'm not sure how." Immediately, three knights came forward to bear Leon to the court physician.

"Has it gone?" Arthur wasn't sure why he was asking Merlin of all people, but for some reason he seemed more aware of things than anyone else.

"It'll be back."

"How do you know?"

Merlin indicated Arthur to look up.

"Because it's brought its friends."

* * *

**Reviews are always very much appreciated. Not sure when the next chapter will be up. Probably slightly later than usual because I've a lot of work to finish off next week and I've got to completely move out of my student accommodation for Easter break so lots of packing. On the other hand I may be able to get some more story written during the hols. When I'm not doing essays, projects or revision, that is. TTFN**


	9. Mind Games

**Chapter 9**

Steely talons ripped through thatch as the seven wyverns began their assault on the town. The townspeople ran from their homes only to be met with a sea of destruction.

"SHOOT!" came the cry from the battlements and the wyverns scattered as arrows showered down on them, but none were harmed. There was a whooshing sound followed by a thud from below and one of the soldiers peered down to investigate. He was greeted violently as teeth ripped though flesh. One of the wyverns had latched itself onto the castle walls with razor-like hooks on each of its wings. The rest of the men rained down all manner of projectiles upon the beast. They were all of them useless.

"MOVE TO THE TOWN," Arthur ordered and the knights rushed out the main gate. Some of the guards were there, attempting to fend the creatures away from people's homes and several already lay savaged in the dirt.

"Move!" He shouted to the last remaining knights, the ones who had taken Sir Algar and Sir Leon inside and were returning to the fight after passing the dead and wounded men onto the servants. They charged out and the prince made to follow, but the beating of wings above him made Arthur glance up. A wyvern was bearing down on him and Merlin like a hawk with its sight fixed firmly on its prey. Separated from the rest of the men, they dived backwards for the nearest cover, a small cart parked in the square. The wyvern swept down , skimming the ground with its talons. It ploughed through the cart with an almighty crash and Merlin and Arthur were thrown forwards in a shower of splintered wood. Arthur felt a stinging as a shard flew passed his cheek before he landed hard. With a shriek of fury at losing it's quarry the wyvern pulled up before it hit the castle walls and went to rejoin the others in the lower town where the women and children would make easier pickings.

Arthur pushed himself up onto his knees.

"Merlin!" he gasped in horror.

"It's okay, I'm fine."

"You are not fine." A sharp fragment of wood had embedded itself into the side of Merlin's neck just above his right shoulder. Blood was seeping from the wound far too quickly for Arthur's liking and yet Merlin was completely unfazed.

"It's just a graze," Merlin said, rubbing the elbow he had fallen on.

"Not that. Stop being an idiot and let me take a look."

"What are you doing? Get off me!"

"Merlin, you have a spike in your neck."

"Don't be…," _ridiculous,_ Merlin was about to say, but as he twisted his head he could just see the end of said spike protruding from him. "Ow!" he yelped, although he wasn't in any pain. In fact he was disturbed by the fact he couldn't feel a thing, but 'Ow!' seemed the natural reaction. "Where did that come from?"

"Never mind where it's come from," exclaimed Arthur in a complete state of disbelief at Merlin's condition and his apparent obliviousness to it. "It's where it's gone."

"I'm telling you I'm fine." Merlin stood up quickly and reached up to remove the piece of wood from his neck.

Arthur held up a hand in protest. "For goodness sake Merlin, stop. We need to get you to Gaius, right now."

Merlin continued regardless and wincing from the thought, withdrew the large splinter. It's end glistened red in the sunlight.

Arthur cringed at the sight of the hole left behind, still trickling blood. He was familiar with seeing wounds of battle but usually the victim was not walking about as if nothing had happened. He was almost afraid of his servant.

"What is going on?" he said. Merlin didn't answer. "You've been stabbed through the neck and you're acting like nothing has happened? What's wrong with you?" He had wandered over to the cart and was examining it strangely. "Merlin, are you even listening to me?" Merlin was moving his hands in mid air in roughly the place where the sides would have been if they were not lying in pieces at their feet.

"None of this is real," he murmured to himself.

"Merlin stop mucking about."

"The cart isn't damaged."

"You're worrying about a cart? Aren't you in pain?"

"Not particularly. Come see, it isn't."

"Of course it is. Now come on."

"I'm telling you."

"You're not well."

Arthur was taken aback when Merlin grabbed him roughly by the elbow. If it had been anyone else they would have found themselves on the ground with their arms pinned behind them before you could say 'Don't mess with a Pendragon'. However, taken completely off-guard by Merlin's abnormally abnormal behaviour, he allowed himself to be dragged forwards towards the cart. Merlin brought his hand sweeping down through thin air. Except it wasn't thin air. His hand met with something solid, but invisible, where he would have expected there to be a wooden crosspiece. He rubbed his palms along the upper edge of the invisible planks in disbelief.

"How did you….?"

"It's an illusion," Merlin explained.

Arthur kicked one of the broken wood fragments. It clattered realistically on the floor as it landed."

"Someone made an illusion of a broken cart?"

"Not just that. It's the wyverns, all of it. The cart, and these injuries," he indicated his own shoulder and Arthur's cheek, "It's all just for effect."

"You can't convince me that those _things_, those monsters are not really there."

"It's true."

"So Sir Leon just mauled himself did he."

"You saw the state he was in. He should be dead, but he isn't, because it did really happen. We just all think it did, Sir Leon included."

Arthur looked at Merlin, at the cart and out towards the town where the battle was raging in his absence. "No," he shook his head. "I refuse to believe that this is all just a figment of our imagination." The sound of screaming could be heard from the city. Wyverns screeched and there was the ring of steel upon steel. "Can you hear that?" he asked Merlin. "That is the sound of people dying. I don't know why I'm even standing here listening to this nonsense."

Merlin looked up at the circling wyverns overhead. He could now see them as they really were – spread thinly onto the fabric of reality and not completely there. Merlin wasn't really sure what the situation was. Two men _were_ dead, not as a result of attack by the illusions, but definitely as a direct consequence of their presence. Merlin's insides recoiled at the thought that the number could be much higher by now. Whether these apparitions were physically there or not, they were a very real and deadly threat. He knew how Arthur must be feeling; things were completely out of his control and he was powerless to help his people. He would take it as an insult to himself and a sign of weakness that he could be defeated by something that did not exist, though Merlin knew that strength wasn't an issue. Arthur was completely denying illusions could be a possibility because it was easy. Merlin knew the only way to get Arthur to accept the truth was to show him. He wasn't sure what effect that would have. Arthur must already be suspicious of him. If Arthur saw the illusions too, would this augment or allay those suspicions? There was little choice.

"Up there!" Merlin suddenly shouted, pointing.

"What is it?" Arthur looked up at a wyvern in flight.

Merlin turned round while Arthur was focused elsewhere. "_Unwréon,_" he whispered, praying it would work.

"Did you see that?" Arthur shouted and Merlin smiled.

"See what?"

"The wyvern. It just sort of flickered. Like it was there one second and gone the next and now it's back again."

"That's what it was like with me and the cart only backwards," Merlin lied. With the cart it had been constant. He could see both the intact vehicle and the fake pieces of wreckage. Merlin had known his magic wasn't powerful enough to overcome all this, but hopefully that brief moment had helped.

"Then it _is_ all an illusion." said Arthur slowly.

Merlin opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't you dare say I told you so," Arthur interrupted him.

"I wasn't going to."

"Yes you were."

Painful shouting echoed up from the streets. Arthur twirled his sword in his hand, preparing to rejoin the fight. He turned to Merlin. He was still unnerved by his gaping wound but he reassured himself that it was all just a trick. It was odd that he wasn't feeling anything when his own scratch, though only minor , still twinged.

"You do realise we can't do anything?" Merlin said.

"But I don't suppose if I told you to stay here, you'd listen."

"You know me, I never listen."

Arthur laughed.

"Wait a minute, you haven't got a sword," he suddenly realised.

"Oh, yeah. I must have forgotten it."

"You'll forget your own head next, although that might be an improvement." Arthur turned back and ran over to fetch Sir Algar's sword which had been left on the ground when his body was removed. "You do remember which end to hold?" He called across the coutyard. Arthur pivoted round and stopped. A male civilian was fleeing the carnage brandishing an axe to defend himself. He had a crazed, fearful look in his eye and seemed to be trapped in his own terrifying world. Arthur was looking at Merlin who was looking back at him and Arthur was filled with dread. When the strange man saw Merlin he raised his axe above his head and in a frenzy brought it swooshing down towards him.

"MERLIN!"


	10. Fight and Flight

**Apologies for a very long wait. Especially as I left you on a cliffie. I know, I'm evil! I'll stop boring you with my excuses, but this is extra long (for me) so maybe that'll make up for things a bit. Hopefully it's pretty exciting.**

**Thanks for all the lovely and some slightly hysterical ;-) reviews. They really mean so much to me. Thank you to GreenBear now, as I wasn't able to reply to your review of the last chapter.**

**Enjoy!

* * *

**

_  
Previously_

Arthur was looking at Merlin who was looking back at him and he was filled with dread. When the strange man saw Merlin he raised his axe above his head and in a frenzy brought it swooshing down towards him.

"MERLIN!"

**Chapter 10 **

"MERLIN!" Arthur shouted. He sprinted forwards, but he was too far away to reach him in time.

Merlin looked back as the axe head sliced through the air towards him. Instinct took over and time slowed before Merlin had time to think about the implications. However, whenever a course of action only involves the sharp end of an axe as a _possible_ outcome there is usually little to consider. Quickly dodging out of its path, time resumed and the blade swept past him as the man staggered forwards. The man turned back round for another strike, but this time the blow was blocked by Arthur's sword and the sword he had brought for Merlin quickly found itself directed at the man's chest.

"Drop it." The axe fell to the ground. "Are you okay, Merlin?"

"I think so," Merlin gasped.

"I'm impressed. I don't think I've ever seen anyone move that quickly. How is it then, you're always late for everything?"

"Because _you _don't usually stand over me brandishing an axe."

"Well, assuming we get out of this, I'll have to consider it in future."

The strange man was getting stranger by the minute. He was clearly in a state of extreme panic and the way he spun his head round in either direction was as if he was looking for a means of escape.

"You've got to let me go, please. They're everywhere," the man sobbed hysterically. "People keep changing." His frantic eyes met Arthur's face and stopped. When he saw him, he started to whimper, eyes widened in terror. "No, no, please, don't hurt me." He tried to run away but Arthur restrained him. "HELP!" he shouted.

"Arthur," Merlin said. He was now stood by the main gate looking out across town. Arthur, however, was a little preoccupied at that moment.

"I'm not going to hurt you if you just calm down." Counselling was not one of Arthur's strongest skills.

"HELP!" the man cried again.

"Arthur," Merlin called again with some urgency.

"Just one second." The desperate man was trying to wrestle his way out of Arthur's grasp.

"HELP!"

"Arthur!"

"HELP!"

Sighing, Arthur subdued the man the best way he knew how. THWUMP!

After dragging the unconscious body undercover, he ran out. He had expected to see a battle raging as his knights fought helplessly against the wyverns that were not really there and perhaps more casualties with either real or imagined injuries, although his soldiers did not yet know about the latter. He hadn't expected anything like this though. He gazed in horror at the scene in front of him. Every way he looked, he saw knight against knight or peasant against peasant, pitched against each other in a reckless battle to the death. Those that were not trying to kill each other were losing terribly against the wyverns. Bodies lay scattered all around, dead or wounded. Some bore signs of having been attacked by the wyverns and although Arthur knew their tattered limbs and shredded bodies were no more real than the beasts that caused them, the agony these victims were experiencing crushed any thoughts of comfort that knowledge might have given him. Again, Arthur was forced to wonder how Merlin was as fine as he was, when quite clearly these illusions could emulate pain so dreadfully well. The illusions themselves may not be deadly, but they did not need to be; the sensations they inflicted were terrible enough. To make matters worse, people were now fighting each other, with weapons that were very real indeed. Camelot's own steel looked like it would finish them off.

By the time Arthur had responded to his servant's call, Merlin was already out there trying to intervene. Evidently, he had _somehow_ managed to disarm Sir Hadwyn, but he was now desperately ducking and blocking another series of attacks. Knocking out Merlin's opponent with the pommel of his own sword, Arthur noticed the blood on his knight's and knew it was no illusion. He was thankful it was not Merlin's but it did not make him feel any better. It probably still belonged to someone he knew.

There was another major skirmish occurring nearby. Tearing down the street to stop it, they passed a father sobbing over the body of his murdered child. Arthur hoped his suspicions about what had happened there were wrong.

As Arthur approached the two fighting guards, they turned instead on him. Arthur parried a blow to his left side as the other man tried to strike him from the right. Arthur would not have time to dodge it. The second attack missed, however, as his assailant tripped over a length of rope and was sent flying. _Where did that come from? _Arthur had little time to ponder on his good fortune as he was still trying to hold off the first. His insistences that he was the Crowned Prince of Camelot and they were on the same side fell on deaf ears.

Suddenly the man he was fighting began to change. His skin blackened and shrivelled on his face and hands until there was naught but a skeleton remaining. _What on Earth? _Whatever was attacking him clearly wasn't human anymore. Arthur automatically switched from defence to attack. He did not know if skeletons could be killed, but he was not going down without trying. Arthur did not notice Merlin's fearful expression from the sidelines as the warlock resisted the urge to interfere. With both sides now aiming to kill, a lapse in concentration by either party could be fatal. On the other hand, it was only a matter of time before one of them eventually fell.

Arthur was clearly the superior fighter. Now he was no longer holding back, the fight would not last long. Knocking back his opponent's blade, he landed a well-aimed kick to his stomach, assuming he still had one. The skeletal figure staggered backwards as Arthur lunged forward.

"No!" Merlin yelled, but it was too late. Arthur withdrew his sword from the man's chest and the guard dropped to the ground, dead.

Satisfied that at least these new opponents could be defeated, Arthur turned to face Merlin, but he was no longer Merlin. His flesh was peeling away to reveal dark scales beneath.

"Arthur?" Merlin said anxiously as he advanced on him. "Arthur, it's me. Whatever you're seeing it's not real. You have to fight it."

As Merlin spoke, a forked tongue licked out from behind his fangs. Arthur frowned, but continued, sword at the ready. He was confused; a moment ago this had been Merlin, hadn't it? How did he know what was real anymore?

"All of this is an illusion remember. You can't trust it. Please, whatever I look like, you can trust me."

This person looked like a monster, but he sounded like Merlin. Slowly, this made some sense. The sorcerer was making people see their comrades as the enemy and that is why they were killing each other. Arthur shook his head, snapping himself out of his disorientation. So that meant the man he had just killed…. What had he done? What had he been about to do?

There was a hissing sound. Arthur looked at Merlin's shoulder. A head started to emerge from Merlin's wound. Merlin was still staring fixatedly at Arthur, trying to second-guess his next move. He hadn't noticed the snake that was slithering from his neck.

"Merlin. Look out!" Arthur yelled. Merlin took a step back as Arthur's sword came down towards him, but instead of slicing across his body, it came swept through air in front of him.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked him.

"Seriously? Well I might have been if you hadn't just scared me half to death."

"Well if you had actually noticed the snake coming out of your shoulder." Arthur pointed to the ground.

"A snake coming out of my shoulder?" Merlin raised his eyebrows, hoping to communicate to the prince how ridiculous that sounded.

"Yes it was…." Arthur pointed to his own neck as he tried to explain what he had seen. Then of course, he realised. "Well, of course I knew it wasn't real, it just came as a bit of a shock… I mean surprise," Arthur corrected. "Reflexes," he said. Merlin nodded his scaly head.

"Arthur, there is nothing we can do here."

"I know. I'm going to order my men to fall back."

"And what about you?"

"I'm not going to stand inside and watch while the city is wiped out by fantasies."

"I've been thinking," Merlin said.

"Well don't. We're in trouble enough as it is."

"Even the most powerful sorcerer would struggle to pull off illusions on this scale." Arthur looked at Merlin strangely. "I would imagine," he added quickly. "Unless they were drawing their power from somewhere else."

"This is to do with the whole 'raw magic' thing, isn't it?" Arthur said sceptically.

"If we destroy the Pillar of Heolstor, the magic is useless. We can stop the illusions."

"Merlin, Heolstor is more than a day's ride from here."

"The horses are already packed."

"I can't leave my people like this."

"You did to look for Balinor." His father's name wanted to stick in Merlin's throat as he remembered, but he forced himself for Arthur's sake.

"Because I thought he could save Camelot."

"And you can do that now." Merlin could see Arthur was torn. "There's no other way."

"Doesn't there need to be a link in Camelot for this kind of sorcery to work?" Arthur tried to remember what Gaius had told them after the meeting with Uther. He was hoping there could still be another explanation for this. Preferably, one that had a simpler solution involving the tip of a sword. He wished he'd actually being paying more attention. "Didn't you find some _magic dust _or something on Eadric?"

"Heolstor stone."

"Stone?"

"Yes."

"Stone," Arthur repeated softly.

"But that's what I don't get," Merlin continued. "For all of this there would have to be a lot of it. I mean, we'd have noticed." Merlin became aware of Arthur gazing blankly at a half-constructed storehouse. "What is it?" Arthur nodded towards the building and then towards a carpenter's workshop, also under repair, and then behind him at the castle walls. Merlin frowned uncomprehendingly, and then his face lit up. "Oh!" Merlin exclaimed, as he understood what Arthur was trying to show him and what that meant. "Oh, no!"

"It's everywhere, isn't it?" Arthur said. "We've rebuilt the city using magic." Arthur took in a deep breath. "We need to get everyone inside and then we're leaving, now."

Charging through the streets Arthur shouted out to his soldiers. "FALL BACK! EVERYBODY, FALL BACK!" Arthur broke up another pair of fighting soldiers, ignoring the fact that one of them appeared to have a tail and was beginning to sprout tusks. "Listen to me. None of this is real. Understand? Retreat to the castle. That is an order. You are not to kill anyone or anything. If you do, I will _deal with you _myself."

Arthur was relieved that most people appeared to be listening to him, rather than attacking him. He was unaware that Merlin was helping by disrupting the illusions around him as best he could, whilst he ordered the evacuation of the town. It was beginning to wear Merlin down, but he was not about to show it.

As far as Arthur was concerned, Merlin was sticking faithfully by his side, helping to break up violent struggles and even fending off the odd attack. Perhaps Merlin was starting to pick up a few fighting skills after all. In appearance, he kept morphing between his normal and lizard-like state. Several times his eyes even seemed to glow golden. These illusions were certainly becoming surreal.

"Collect the wounded if you can, but don't put yourself at risk. The same applies for the dead. While these illusions are affecting us we can't be sure of anything."

All around Arthur, people were fleeing back to the castle.

"We should get to the horses," said Merlin and Arthur agreed. They headed towards main gate where the horses from earlier were tied up but in great distress. It would seem that these visions were not confined to humans. There was an awful shriek that did not belong to the screaming townspeople. It came from above. Arthur glanced back. A wyvern had him in its sights and began hurtling towards him.

"RUN MERLIN!" he shouted in front of him. Merlin watched as for a brief moment Arthur stood, sword drawn as if he was about to face the creature. He obviously decided against it as seconds later he was sprinting towards him. "RUN!"

Merlin reluctantly complied. He ran to the horses, muttering a quick spell as he approached to calm them. An agonized moan from behind him as the wyvern passed overhead made Merlin turn back. Arthur lay on his side on the floor writhing. He had dived forwards to avoid the wyvern but its tail had still managed to graze his arm. Merlin knew that ordinarily a wyvern's tail could carry poison and it seemed that the illusions were authentic in mimicking that effect.

Merlin carefully rolled Arthur onto his back. His face was grimacing in pain and he was breathing heavily.

"Arthur, it's not real. Remember? You have to fight it." Arthur grunted through gritted teeth and Merlin took it as affirmative. He could see that Arthur was fighting a battle inside his own head, trying to drag himself back to the real world and ignore the searing torture that felt like thousands of red-hot needles had been driven into every square inch of his bone. Merlin felt shameful that his magic protected him against the painful aspects of these illusions whilst others suffered. He should have ignored Arthur's orders like he always did. He should have done more to protect him. The wyvern could have attacked him instead and he would have been fine.

Arthur was struggling to get himself up and Merlin helped him to his feet.

"Are you sure you can still do this?" asked Merlin. Arthur nodded, face still screwed up. He was muttering something about "magic", "sorcerer's lies" and "won't beat me" over and over again. With Merlin helping to support Arthur's weight, they staggered together towards the horses. Dark shadows circling at their feet indicated that they did not have long before the wyverns tried again. Against Merlin's protests, Arthur insisted on riding properly. He cried out as Merlin aided him onto his horse and he was still wheezing. As he mounted his own steed, Merlin averted his eyes as a single tear ran down his master's cheek. He would pretend he had not noticed for the sake of Arthur's pride.

Merlin kicked his horse into motion and they set off, himself in front and Arthur right behind him. Looking at the ground, he saw one of the shadows break off from the main flock and follow them. They broke into a gallop and tore down the street, hooves pounding in the dirt as they made their desperate dash out of the city. Arthur was still managing to keep up. That was good. The threatening sound of wing beats grew louder and louder at their backs as they left the buildings behind them and emerged onto the main road through the woods and out of the city.

Then, Arthur's mount overtook Merlin's, but with no Arthur. Merlin spun his own horse around to see Arthur lying unconscious on the ground and the wyvern almost upon him. Quickly dismounting, he ran over. He started to drag Arthur away, but that wouldn't do any good and he didn't know any spells that could banish the illusion permanently. Instead, he did the only other thing he could think of; he stood between the wyvern and Arthur. If the hunter wanted prey, it would have him.

Merlin's heart thumped wildly in his chest as the beast flew directly at him. Its red eyes locked with his and its jaws were open wide. He winced as he braced himself for the wyvern's strike.

It never came. Just before its teeth were about to sink into him, the wyvern collided with an invisible barrier and disintegrated headfirst into the boundary. The magic creating the illusions was confined to the city itself and unknowingly they had managed to pass just outside of its range. There was a grumble from behind Merlin. _Arthur. _The prince was stirring.

"Arthur, are you okay?"

"Never better," Arthur groaned. The pain was beginning to dull but his body still ached.

"What about me?" Merlin asked. Arthur blinked and looked up at Merlin.

"Terrible," he said.

"I still look different?"

"No, you look exactly the same as you used to. You know, the reptilian look was actually beginning to grow on me."

It hurt for him to laugh, but Arthur could not resist as Merlin yanked him unnecessarily roughly to his feet.

* * *

Inside the palace, the council chambers had been converted into an infirmary, as they had been after the dragon attack. Gaius was shifting between the many casualties assisted in his administrations by Gwen. Uther strode down the rows of the wounded as the door burst open and two knights entered supporting a third between them. The man had taken a blade to his leg and was no longer able to walk. More and more soldiers were streaming into the castle and a large proportion of those bore injuries.

"What is going on out there?" Uther asked Sir Hadwyn, the nearest knight.

"Prince Arthur ordered us to retreat, Sire."

"The creatures?"

"They have assaulted the lower town. Our weapons are useless and we cannot hold them back."

Uther regarded the man Hadwyn was carrying. He was no physician, but he had been in combat many time and seen his fair share of battle wounds. "These do not appear to have been caused by any beast. Who is responsible?"

"Things were somewhat _confused_ out there."

"_Confused_ is not an answer. Speak up knight. Should I be expecting an army on my doorstep any minute?"

"In his case, Sire, the responsibility lies with myself." Hadwyn bowed his head sadly. "The rest, other soldiers of Camelot. We hurt and killed these men."

"I don't understand. What manner of treason is this?" If a magical onslaught was not bad enough, now his own men, who had sworn loyalty to the kingdom, were turning against him.

"I swear I knew not what I was doing. There is reason to believe that the sorcerer is using illusion to mislead us and altering our perceptions. I would have staked my life on the fact that my opponent was not human. Obviously, I was mistaken. Camelot is in chaos. What is more, the wyverns are striking fear into the hearts of the people, who still haven't recovered from last month's attack. The similarities are proving too much for some."

"Illusions? We are conceding defeat because a sorcerer is using a few petty mind tricks?"

"With all due respect, I would hardly describe them as petty."

"Where is my son now?" Uther scanned the crowds entering the castle, but there was no sign of Arthur.

"I cannot say."

Uther stormed off. He wasn't sure whether he was angry with Arthur for yielding so readily, or deeply concerned for his well-being. He made his way to the northern tower. He would see these illusions for himself. The wind blasted against his face as he stepped onto the battlements. Four of the wyverns were airborne, hovering over the lower town. Another was hanging from the city walls and a sixth had returned the main square as terrified people tried to escape past it.

"Uther Pendragon," a voice said.

Uther realised he was not alone.

"Who are you?"

"One of many who would seek to destroy the man who has sought to exterminate my kind," the woman shouted over the gale. The wind whipped her cloak as she revolved to face him. "Only I will succeed where others have failed. Camelot is already on the verge of collapse and I shall see it done."

"Your kind are a plague on this kingdom. These actions only confirm that truth. It is you and those like you who will be destroyed." Uther's hand reached for his sword, but Ailith's reactions were quicker. Muttering a spell, the sword leapt from its scabbard and into her outstretched left hand. A downward flick of her right left Uther pinned to the floor.

"I was born in Camelot. Many years later I returned looking to settle a score, but I found that it was no longer necessary." An immobilised Uther wondered how any of this was relevant. "Instead, I leant something. I learnt that killing is but a practical solution to a problem and there are far better ways to make a man suffer. I believe revenge deserves something a little more imaginative, how about you?"

"I believe you are evil." Uther glared defiantly up at his adversary. "You will stop this magic at once."

"Because you care about what happens to your kingdom, or merely because the sight of magic sickens you," said Ailith coolly.

"Of course I care about my kingdom. I am its king."

"I'm glad to hear it," Ailith smiled. "I'm afraid I made a bit of a mess out there." Ailith wandered over to the tower's edge and peered down at the devastation. She heard the noise of struggling as Uther tried to sit up, but was unable to move. "How's Arthur doing? I don't see him," she said.

"What have you done to my son?" Uther implored.

"I cannot say. I can control it if I choose, but I gave this fantasy a life of its own." Her steely eyes met Uther's despairing ones. "It's more fun that way."

"You would wipe out a city to revenge yourself against one man?"

"And you would wipe out an entire people," Ailith snapped.

"It is necessary to rid the world of this wickedness. If you plan to kill me then be done with it. I will not yield to a sorcerer."

"I will not kill you Uther Pendragon."

"Camelot will never fall to magic while I am king."

"We shall see." Ailith knelt beside Uther and bent over his ear, even though there was no risk of being overheard. "Rest assured Camelot will fall," she hissed, "And you will be alive to see it."

Ailith stood again proudly. She held out her hands, palms outwards towards Uther. .

"_Fýrléoht!_" she said calmly,mouth curled in a cruel grin.

* * *

Arthur was recovering against the trunk of a tree. Thankfully the pain was now almost completely gone. A flash of orange in the direction of the castle caught his eye. One of the towers had caught fire and was a seething mass of flame at its peak. He had just scrambled up when an amplified female voice boomed out from the castle.

"Arthur Pendragon," It bellowed. "I know you have fled, coward. If you care for your people, you will come to me at Heolstor within three days. The city has been sealed so no one may leave. No one else remaining indoors will be harmed, but should anyone venture out, they will not be spared. If you do not meet my demands, I will not be as generous. Nightmares will be unleashed and your people will cower in a world of my making. I look forward to meeting you."

Merlin did not need to see Arthur's face to sense the rage bubbling up inside him. As he attempted to return to the city, Merlin was forced to hold him back.

"We've got a job to do."

"I'll kill her," Arthur growled.

"Fine. You can do that, when we get to Heolstor."

"She's expecting us. We're walking into a trap. I will not be blackmailed by a sorceress."

"I know."

"But if I kill her now…."

"It won't do any good."

"You know that for sure, do you?"

"Yes."

"Well maybe I don't care."

"You _do_ care. Look, assuming we can even get back into Camelot, if she's not there then we'll be trapped like everybody else. Who will destroy the Pillar then?" Merlin tried to reason with him. "You're more important to people here than you could ever be back there. They need you. Maybe she doesn't know how much we know. If she believes she has us there on her own terms couldn't that be an advantage?"

"Please stop pretending to know anything about tactics, Merlin."

"I'm right though, aren't I?"

"Possibly."

Arthur took a deep breath as he took a final look at his beloved home, hoping that when he gazed upon it again it would be with happier eyes. He mounted his horse and glanced down at Merlin. "Well, sounds like we'd better be going then."

* * *

**Please take a few seconds to review if you can.**


	11. Powerless

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**Only a short update this time I'm afraid. Hope you like it despite the lack of Merlin and Arthur. Don't panic, I'll get back to them again soon. I just want to deal with some of my Camelot ideas now so I don't have to keep interrupting too many other things later, plus I thought the pair deserved the afternoon off (they're probably going to need it). Just so you know, the start of this chapter overlaps with the end of chapter 8. The rest continues in Camelot where the last chapter left off.**

**Thank you as usual for the reviews. They really do make my day. Thanks now to D-syfer who I was unable to reply to. **

**Enjoy! :D

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**Chapter 11**

Mildryd sat leaning against the cave walls, her small figure almost lost in the grand scale of the place. Her eyes followed a wyvern's flight around the ceiling, but it couldn't hurt her. It was merely a shade of the true illusions she had helped to create for Camelot, a pale and translucent side effect of the magical link and a way off ensuring that the effects of their spells still held. Ailith had insisted on going to Camelot alone to carry out the next stage of the plan involving Uther. Mildryd had wanted to be there to watch Uther squirm, that was the reason they were dong this after all, but Ailith was not one to be argued with these days.

Nedra, the middle sister, was stood next to the Pillar. She had her back to her younger sibling, but Mildyrd could sense that she was using magic, probably to observe goings on in Camelot. She cocked her head to one side curiously and up above her the ghost of the wyvern did the same in a most uncharacteristic fashion. Unexpectedly, she turned to face her sister; the gold vanished from her eyes and was replaced by the fire of anger. The wyvern resumed flight, and several more joined it.

"You fool! You complete and utter fool," Nedra fumed.

"What is it?" said Mildryd innocently.

"You didn't kill the warlock, did you?"

"Well, not exactly, no, but I wasn't certain he'd still be alive."

"How much do they know?"

"I didn't speak to anyone if that's what you mean."

"Are you mad? I don't know how you managed to pull off this trick and I'm not sure I want to, but if she finds out."

"Will you tell her?"

"Of course not, but be it on your head and not mine."

"What has happened to you, Nedra? There was a time when you would never go along with something this."

It was true. When she was younger, before she began to have visions of a future kingdom where magic was accepted, her thoughts had been filled with hatred and vengeance. Her older sisters had taught her to rise above that, and although she never truly did, she understood that violence against innocent people was not a solution. That made her no better than the king himself.

"You've still gone along with it though," Nedra pointed out. "You may not have had the stomach to kill the warlock, but you helped create the illusion."

"I'm a coward," her sister admitted. "I think we both know that. I used to look up to you though, because that is one thing you never were."

"Maybe it's because I agree with what we're doing. I'm tired Mildryd. I'm tired of hiding in the shadows."

"I don't even remember a life any different. I want nothing more than to witness Uther's demise and to watch him suffer, but all of this is wrong. You used to believe that. Ailith used to believe that, but she's changed now."

"Oh, you actually noticed that did you?"

"What do you mean by that?" Mildryd cried out. She was startled by the abruptness of Nedra's remark and it hurt her.

"You really don't see it do you. How can you be so blind? Your own sister. Maybe you should stop dwelling on a future that might never happen and take a look at what's actually happening in the here and now for once."

"There is a chance for magic," Mildryd insisted, completely missing Nedra's point. "When Arthur is king…"

"And when will that be? How long do we have to wait?" Nedra turned away sadly. "How many more loved ones do we need to lose in the meantime? Face it. Things change." She rubbed her belly subconsciously. "People change. Maybe it's about time we changed a few things ourselves. Uther's power will end and Arthur will die. I will not rest easy so long as there is a Pendragon on the throne. You should look hard at yourself. What do you want, because you need to make a decision? Where do your loyalties lie?" Nedra spun around and her eyes met again with Mildryd's. "With strangers or with family?"

"I'm not sure I can side with Ailith anymore." Mildryd hung her head shamefully. Nedra placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Then stand by me."

* * *

"Gaius, Sir Reynold is insisting that you treat him." Gaius was rushed off his feet with the number of people he had to treat. Unfortunately, there were many that he was simply unable to help; they had no injuries to heal. That did not stop them complaining. The seemingly toughest knights always made the most awkward patients.

"Give him this potion to relieve the pain." Gaius handed Gwen a small bottle of clear liquid. "But not too much."

"This is water."

"Just don't tell him that." Gaius winked at her and Gwen nodded smiling. "It probably won't make any difference but it may keep him quiet while I deal with the actual wounded. I don't want to waste actual medicines on people they can't help when there's no way of getting more."

The worst of the wyvern victims had been bandaged so they did not have to look at their own maimed bodies, but the efforts were concentrated on those whose injuries had been caused by real weapons and could be fatal if ignored too long. Gaius began dressing a deep gash on a young soldiers arm with bandages soaked in thyme oil to reduce the risk of infection. His mind though, was on other things. He was worried. Ailith's demand to Arthur had been heard all throughout the city and the people now knew that they were trapped and that their prince had fled. Furthermore, the king had not been seen since and it was uncharacteristically odd that he would not react to such an open display of magic, not to mention the threats against his son.  
He supposed Merlin's absence could be explained, for if Merlin had failed to show up here, he must surely be with Arthur. At least that is how Gaius reassured himself. He sighed. All hope now rested with them. Presumably, they would continue with their initial plan, to go to Heolstor. Unfortunately since that had now become the very thing the sorceress wanted, it had suddenly become a lot more dangerous.

On the other side of the room, by the door, Sir Reynold was not being a very cooperative patient. Gwen had responded to an outpouring of abuse with her usual mild-mannered tolerance, but she was beginning to lose her patience.

"And don't even think about giving me any more of that rubbish about there being nothing wrong with me. I've lost a bleeding arm for heaven's sake." Reynolds pointed to a ragged stump attached to his left shoulder. Gwen rolled her eyes when she was sure the knight couldn't see her. This was the standard of Camelot's elite? She accidentally on purpose pinched the man where his arm should have been.

"Ow!"

"Oh my! I'm so sorry. Please forgive me," Gwen said in her best apologetic tone.

"Be careful woman." Reynold snapped.

She left him with a superior glance which screamed 'I told you so', or would have done to most people; she knew Reynold wouldn't recognize a subtle hint if it hit him round the head with a flail.

As she departed Reynold's '_deathbed'_, Gwen heard the sound of coughing next to her before she was taken roughly by the shoulder. The man who had grabbed her had burns on his face and hands.

"Where is Gaius?" he asked.

"Over there," she replied. "Gaius!"

Gaius finished dressing the young soldier's leg and responded to Gwen's call. A quick examination was enough to determine that the burns were real.

"Where did you get this?" said Gaius

"The Northern tower is in flames. I saw the King head in that direction. After the sorceress spoke to us all, I attempted to find him, but a wall of fire blocked the staircase and I was unable to follow."

* * *

Uther's body gave an involuntary jolt as the spell binding him to the floor was lifted. Ailith had vanished, however a ring of flames had him imprisoned. Was this the sorceress's plan? To keep him trapped here in a circle of fear, while the city fell into chaos. Or, was it just another display of flamboyance designed to rile him. As Ailith's voice rang out Uther's pounding heart was lightened at the knowledge that his son still lived, before sinking when he listened to her threats. Uther knew how much Arthur cared for the people of Camelot. Arthur would surely go to her to protect their lives just as he himself would willingly sacrifice himself now to spare Arthur's. Instead though, he was stuck here, powerless to do anything to stop this magic or save his son from whatever the witch had in mind.

A shout from downstairs suggested that someone had tried to reach him and had been beaten back by the fire that filled the rooftop and extended down the stairs. The only safe place was seemingly the small area where Uther was standing. Then, just as quickly as they had been summoned, the flames were extinguished.

"It's out," Sir Caradoc's voice drifted up from below.

"Just like that?"

"Well, obviously it's sorcery. Are you sure the king went up there?"

"I'm certain of it," Sir Hadwyn's voice answered. Spluttering was heard as the pair climbed the tower and inhaled the lingering smoke.

"Well, what happened?" Caradoc asked.

"I was confronted by the one responsible for all of this. I was attacked by means of magic and regretfully was unable to stop her. Now I know her face she will be made to face justice for her actions," Uther declared.

"There's no-one here now," Caradoc turned to Hadwyn and said.

"The sorceress vanished. She will be found," the king announced.

"Do you think she took him? Does he still live?" Hadwyn asked.

"He? He who?"

"Have the castle searched, every room, every corridor," instructed Caradoc.

"_I_ am king and you will take your orders from _me_. I demand you tell me what's going on."

"Very well," Hadwyn said, ignoring Uther completely.

"Did you hear me?" asked Uther fiercely. The knights retraced their steps back down the spiral stone staircase without giving Uther a second glance.

"I order you to tell me who is missing!" shouted Uther behind them. Had his knights gone deaf all of a sudden? "Ah, Gaius." Maybe his trusted advisor could shed some light on the situation.

"Is there any sign of King Uther?"

"There's no trace of him."

Uther laughed in disbelief. "Excuse me?!" he cried out incredulously, walking round beside Gaius and waving a hand in front his face. He didn't even blink.

"Do you think the sorceress got to him?" Hadwyn asked.

"I fear that is highly probable," said Gaius.

Uther reached out to grasp Gaius's shoulder. He would make someone take notice of him. Gaius took a step forward for seemingly no reason as Uther's arm came out meaning his hand missed the old man completely.

"And given that he is perhaps the greatest enemy of those who practice magic." Hadwyn continued.

Gaius nodded in agreement. "there is a strong possibility that the king may be dead."

Uther clenched his fists in infuriation. He wasn't entirely sure what the sorceress had done to him but things were not good.


	12. Unsettling Times

**Thank you to those of you who have added this fic to alert/favs and of course to my loyal reviewers who have stuck with this story this far. The next few chapters may not be that exciting but please try to stay with me. The rest of this story is planned out and there should be more happening soon. I do tinker with things quite a lot as I write though, and Merlin and Arthur especially do tend to get away from me a bit.**

**Enjoy and do review if you get chance! :D**

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**Chapter 12**

This is absurd, Uther thought. He was not even feeling unwell, and he certainly wasn't dead – was he? Perhaps the sorceress had lied to him; those who practiced magic were hardly the most trustworthy individuals. Perhaps she _had_ killed him. What if he was a ghost? The very thought that he, King Uther Pendragon could become such a being was repugnant. Was this his punishment for his crusade against sorcery, to walk these corridors unseen for an eternity? Uther had never sought death, but he had faced its cruel grin on more than one occasion. Still, he never envisioned the outcome of his demise as anything like this. He always thought he would be reunited with Ygraine. He could only hope that when he was, she would be able to forgive him his sins. He thought he would watch proudly from wherever lay beyond as Arthur was crowned king, but now he didn't even know where his son was or if he would even survive to return and take up the throne. _No_, he thought, he had to have faith in him.

It was only then he realised in his agitation, that he was breathing rather more heavily than usual. He was still breathing. Standing quietly and concentrating on his internal workings, he could feel his heart, still pumping valiantly away in his chest. His initial assumptions were correct then, he still lived, but that didn't excuse the fact that he couldn't be seen or heard by anyone.

Turning his back on Gaius, Hadwyn and Caradoc, who were continuing to discuss the grimness of situation, Uther went over to the wall and brushed his hand against the stonework. It felt rough against his fingertips. He pushed harder and the wall stayed firm against his touch. He was still solid then; that was a bonus at least. He felt he must look incredibly foolish as he flapped a tapestry madly in a vain attempt to attract attention, but it would seem that the court had succumbed to a sudden attack of blindness, or no-one was aware of his actions any more than they were aware of him. He attempted to touch someone again, first Gaius, then each of his knights, but each time he did they stepped out of his way as Gaius had before or ignored him completely. Gaius had briefly looked confused by the manner in which the three of them, including himself, were randomly waltzing around the corridor to avoid contact with an invisible man, then seemed to shrug it off as perfectly normal behaviour. Uther wondered what would happened if he tried to hit one of them. Obviously, he would never strike Gaius, but he contemplated shoving one of the soldiers before deciding against it for the moment, if they moved suddenly to avoid him, the results could be most undignified even if there was nobody to see it. Besides, that sort of behaviour was hardly befitting of a king. Not when they could not anticipate it first.

He returned to the ongoing conversation, which had turned from the whereabouts of the king and the absence of Arthur the issue of resources.

"We have plenty of food in stores," Caradoc said.

"But water could be more of a problem," said Gaius seriously, "Given that the well and the pumps are outside."

"We were told anyone who went out would be attacked," Hadwyn reminded them both.

"Regardless, we will need fresh water soon."

"We need to determine if the sorceress's threats have any ground," Caradoc said.

"I'll gather a group together and we'll attempt to draw some more water from the well in the main square," Hadwyn said, and made to do just that. The giant knight stopped him as an idea flashed in his head."

"Wait, what happened to the prisoner? The one that was supposed to be executed this morning."

"Eadric's killer?" Uther and Hadwyn asked simultaneously.

"You're not serious?" Gaius exclaimed.

"I think they returned him to the cells," said Hadwyn.

"Fetch him."

_Good thinking_, Uther thought. Gaius and Hadwyn didn't seem to agree.

"I am willing to go out there myself," Hadwyn argued.

"This way we can determine what we are dealing with."

"We know what we are dealing with that's the problem. But does he know?"

"He's a criminal."

"And already a dead man." Uther added, unheard.

"He's also a human being," Gaius said, "And regardless of his crimes you cannot force him to be your test subject."

"Think of him as a scout. Are you suggesting this murderer, this man who admittedly has consorted with sorcerers, deserves better treatment than the people lying in the infirmary right now who were hurt fighting in defence of their kingdom," Caradoc said as if challenging him.

"Of course not," Hadwyn tried to reason, "But I am willing to protect Camelot with my life if necessary, and I am sure every other soldier in Camelot would say the same."Uther admired the man's loyalty, but if he had been giving the same orders he would have expected them to be carried out without complaint.

"There will be a time for _heroics_," Caradoc relished the last word, knowing full well that Hadwyn still felt guilty that he had not been among the number that accompanied the prince in the final confrontation with the dragon a month ago. It was a shame that Caradoc took full advantage of exploiting for his own pleasure, despite his own lack of involvement in that particular battle. "But we may as well find out what we can about if and how these wyverns will attack, or if the witch has any more tricks up her sleeves, before we risk our own men."

"A sound point," Hadwyn reluctantly conceded whilst Gaius scowled. Uther nodded in agreement with Caradoc. At least someone was taking firm charge over the situation, although he was still furious that it wasn't him. After all, he had been demoted to a mere observer in his own domain, and that was more enfeebling than any physical hurt the sorceress could have inflicted.

* * *

"I don't want to cast on doubt your superior, princely navigational skills, but are you absolutely sure we're going the right way?" Merlin asked Arthur for the third time as he pulled a thorn out of his finger.

"Yes Merlin, for the final time." Arthur heaved a sigh. He got off his horse and hacked away at the thicket that was blocking their way, clearing a path in seconds. "See," he said, motioning to the gap he'd just cleared. "It's not that difficult."

"If it's not that difficult, why can't you do it yourself," Merlin complained as he sucked his pricked finger.

"If I'm not mistaken, I just did. You really are completely useless, you do know that?" Arthur said irritably. "I don't know why I even bother hanging on to a servant like you sometimes."

"Because you value intelligent company?" Merlin suggested.

"_Again_, I don't know why I even bother keeping you around."

Merlin regarded his woodland surroundings. The track they were following was not well travelled and had been overcome by the surrounding vegetation. This was making their progress extremely difficult, particularly with the horses. Merlin had spent several minutes trying to clear the pathway that Arthur had unblocked annoyingly quickly, and he now had several cuts and scratches up his arms to show for it. As the afternoon sun cast its dappled light down on him, Merlin wiped the sweat from his brow.

"So remind me again why we're engaged in brutal combat with a shrubbery. I mean, I know that brambles pose a serious threat to the kingdom, but we are sort of in a hurry."

"It _has_ been ten years since anyone has had needed to come this way, so it's bound to be a little bit overgrown."

"Oh yes, just a little bit."

"But despite the fact the bushes are almost as dense as you, this is still the quickest way to Heolstor, or at least it would be if you had any competence whatsoever in clearing a halfway decent route."

"I'm your manservant, not a gardener."

"Merlin, you're from Ealdor. There's nothing to do there except farming. You must know perfectly well how to dig up beans and sow a potato."

_Sow a potato? _Merlin chose not to question Arthur's horticultural expertise.

"So a small about of basic weeding really shouldn't be a problem."

"There's nothing basic about this. Besides, growing vegetables generally doesn't involve slashing madly at impenetrable undergrowth with a sword. You know, if you gave me a little more help, we would get through the rest a lot quicker."

"I'm the prince."

"Just pretend it's a magical creature," recommended Merlin. _And try not to get yourself knocked out_,he thought as the pair led their horses carefully through the path Arthur had just cleared.

They continued on, stepping over branches that lay in their path and chopping away at encroaching bushes.

"If you think about it, if no-one has been this way for a decade there could be anything in these woods," Merlin pointed out.

Arthur shook his head. Trust Merlin to come up with the worst-case scenario. Still, he was right. He didn't know what lurked out of sight in this forest. The difference was he didn't spend a lot of time thinking about it.

"Did you hear that?" Merlin exclaimed suddenly twisting his head round wildly trying to locate the source of the noise."

Arthur listened. "I don't hear anything." He looked around and saw nothing. "You're far too superstitious, Merlin." Then Arthur did hear something. There was a rustling in the bushes. He turned around to the source of the sound. "Merlin?" His servant was nowhere to be seen "Merlin?" There was a further rustling.

Arthur stood on guard, following the noise through the foliage. He was unable to see what was causing it, but whatever it was had taken Merlin. The thing was directly in front of him now. Cautiously he moved forward, sword at the ready in case it should strike out at him. He slowly pushed back a clump of leaves with one hand.

"BOO!" Merlin shouted. A humongous grin was plastered across his face as Arthur jumped ever so slightly out of his skin.

"Merlin. You…." Arthur could not find an appropriate word to describe him. Merlin was in hysterics as he scrambled out of the bushes, despite almost tripping up as he did so. "Idiot!" Arthur said, slapping Merlin around the back of his head. Merlin rubbed himself, where he had been hit, still wearing a massive smile. "Do you feel better after that?"

"Strangely yes."

"How old are you, five?"

"I was just trying to cheer you up," Merlin admitted. Something had been distracting Arthur since they had left Camelot. At first he'd thought it was just the aftermath of battle coupled with worry for Camelot's safety, but now he wasn't so sure. Arthur was covering it well, but Merlin wasn't fooled.

"What makes you think I need cheering up?" Arthur laughed to hide his discomposure.

"Something's bothering you. I can tell." Arthur's face fell slightly at Merlin's words..

"Yes, what's bothering me is the fact that I seem to be playing hide-and-seek with my immature servant while a sorceress terrorises people back home," he said defensively.

"You can tell me."

"You don't think this conversation sounds oddly familiar? Besides," Arthur pointed a reprimanding finger at Merlin, "I don't tell you things, I tell you to tell me things."

"Fine, don't tell me then. It's probably none of my business anyway." Merlin stared at Arthur expectantly.

"You're right, it isn't." Merlin still didn't blink. "Honestly, it's really nothing."

"I'm sure it is nothing," Merlin said.

"Exactly. It's not important. Let's keep moving." Merlin's eyes still bore into his own. "Will you stop doing that?!" Arthur groaned. "Are you always this stubborn?"

"I prefer to think of it as determination."

"You really are making too much of this." Arthur took in a deep breath. "It just feels a little strange going back there after what happened and that's all there is to it."

"Back there?" Merlin asked him, breaking his stare as they began walking again.

"Heolstor," Arthur began to explain. He had started now, so however reluctantly he would have to finish. "I was eleven when my father found out about the magical settlement that had survived The Purge. I've never seen so much fury and delight combined in one man. He wanted to be there himself to see it destroyed, and to put the rumours about the place to rest."

"And you went with him?" Arthur nodded.

"It was part of my _education_."

"Ah." Merlin understood.

"I don't know why I let it get to me. I'd seen people killed before, public executions and the like, and I've seen plenty more since. I've taken many of those lives myself; rather more than I'm comfortable with." Arthur didn't know why he was telling Merlin all of this. He supposed the fact that he was occupied with clearing the way ahead somewhat disguised the fact that he was actually engaged in a heart to heart talk, and with a servant nonetheless. Though now he was talking, it did feel good to open up. "We stood on the cliff top, me and my father, while he admired his handiwork," Arthur continued. "I had known what we were going there to do and still the sight still shocked me. The destruction of entire towns, killing everyone who lived there was something the enemy did, but not us and yet here we were. Most people didn't even fight back, they just stood there and died and that didn't seem right to me, not then, not now."

"They were sorcerers though."

"And magic is evil, I know. I've been told that since birth." He found Merlin was staring at him strangely again. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"No reason," Merlin said innocently, averting his eyes upwards. Arthur did not believe that for a second, but finished his story nonetheless.

"There were no survivors; at least that's what we thought. The town was searched for any dangerous magical artefacts to be taken back to the vaults and all the wooden buildings were burned to the ground. As we begun our return to Camelot, there was a young woman travelling in the opposite direction. She was about 17 or 18, red hair, grey eyes. I can't believe I still remember. She was a peasant going by her dress, and she asked for directions to the town. I thought my father would have her killed too but he didn't. Instead he just told her to 'Look for the smoke'."

"I can see why this would bother you."

"That's the thing, at the time it did, but recently I've never even given it a second thought. Then, after this morning…. If that place has so much power and sorcerers can use that, then against a whole village, we shouldn't have stood a chance. Unless…."

"Unless what?" Merlin asked. His was tone odd, almost as if he was testing him. Arthur realised he was making his doubts known and that would not do. How did he allow himself to get into this situation anyway?

"Nothing. It doesn't matter." Arthur produced a map and pointed ahead. "We should be getting to a clearing soon and then we're nearly out of these woods," said Arthur, rapidly changing the subject. Merlin realised the conversation was over and knew better than to push it.

"Great!" he said cheerfully, relieved that he would be spared any more chopping duties. "So it's an easy ride all the way to Heolstor then?"

"More or less."

"Right, I'll take that as a no then."

"It's only a swamp."

"Oh, that's not so bad. Wait a minute, we don't have to swim through it do we," said Merlin, turning white.

"Don't be ridiculous. There's a causeway."

"Good."

"Which due to border disputes now takes us into Cenred's kingdom," Arthur added.

"That's not so good."

"But it's only very briefly, and it is very unlikely that we'll encounter any of Cenred's men."

"Why?" Merlin asked suspiciously.

"People don't tend to guard swamps," Arthur pointed out logically.

"That makes sense."

"And it's supposed to be haunted." Arthur muttered almost silently.

"Pardon?" Merlin hadn't quite heard him. Arthur decided he did not really need to know.

"Never mind."

* * *

**(Yes, I am well aware that potatoes weren't around then, but then neither were tomatoes, sandwiches, stiletto shoes or talking dragons. Don't take it too seriously - I don't.)**

**Hope you liked this chapter and** **Happy Easter everyone!!!**


	13. Villainy and Ambitious Minds

**My highest number of reviews yet for the last chapter, even though very little actually happened. Thanks guys! :D Does that mean the winning formula is banter or controversial comments about dragons in the author's notes? I know a lot of you were looking forward to the haunted swamp. I'll get to it in the next update, even if I do now have to tack **_**another **_**extra bit onto the beginning. Curse my overambitious planning of chapters.**

**Speaking of the chapters, here's number 13. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 13 **

Ailith seated herself on a small rock beside the old mill pond. The still water's surface reflected perfectly the rolling hills behind her as well as the pale blue sky above, speckled with white clouds like lamb's wool that were wafting overhead. Though it was a fine day, the heavy rainfall from the previous day was still evident and her feet sank slightly into the mud as she looked down at the mill, now abandoned. As she did, the breeze rustled through the grass around the waters edge and swept down towards the building, making the aging waterwheel creak and groan. This was where Ailith now came to be alone.

Not by choice, it had been her home for the best part of ten years after she was smuggled out of Camelot at a young age. Her adoptive parents had been decent enough. In fact, the miller was the only true father figure she had ever had. She had always wished her real father dead, until she discovered his actual fate was just as sweet revenge. Still, she had missed her mother, her real mother, particularly when her magic became apparent. She could still remember the look she wore as she was murdered.

Her new family had experienced great difficulty coping with an adolescent witch. That was the reason she had left them, following an obscure rumour of a place where she might learn more about her gift, where she could meet others like her; her kin. She had indeed learned many things there, but her most important discovery was that some things and some people never change. She'd arrived just in time to witness the aftermath of Uther's cruel hand. Her last hopes of belonging destroyed by sword and fire.

In this world of hate she thrived alone. Both sets of parents were dead or dead to her. She thought it… unfortunate, but her quest for vengeance had dulled her other emotions. Recently she herself had killed without remorse. It had been a practical decision in order to facilitate her plans and to get in a position where she could actually make a difference. The body was even buried around here somewhere. The woman, a survivor of the Heolstor attack, had been her mentor during a difficult time and had taught her all she knew about the magical arts, but had not stopped her. Her mind was focused solely on the task at hand: to make Uther pay for his crimes with humiliation and suffering. Eventually she would probably kill him too and he would deserve it, but that could wait. She would have her fun.

Waving her hand over the calm waters, she recited a spell in the old language that caused her own image in its surface to ripple out of focus. When the pond returned to its previous stillness, her refection had been replaced with a different scene. She watched with pleasure as the once proud king rampaged through the corridors of Camelot.

* * *

Uther was angry. No, he wasn't angry, he was furious. He had spent hours hurling objects, standing in people's way and yelling directly in servant's ears and no-one knew he even existed anymore. He was not used to being ignored and wasn't sure how much longer he could tolerate this indignity.

His rage had taken him back to the north tower where his trial had begun.

"Alright, you have had your fun. Now end this," Uther yelled to the heavens. He did not know if the sorceress was listening, but he was going to shout nonetheless. Just because nobody could hear him, that didn't mean he had to be silent. It would not do to sit sulking on an empty throne. "What do you hope to achieve? Does this give you pleasure?" he fumed. "You cannot win. They may not see me, but we both know I am still here. So long as I am I guarantee that this city will never fall to evil. I demand that you undo this curse at once."

There was no sign that anyone had acknowledged him. All Uther could hear in reply was the howling of the wind, and from below him was a yelling in the main square.

"We should help him surely?" Sir Hadwyn and Sir Caradoc stood downstairs in the open doorway. The prisoner, Matthew, had been forced to draw water from the well outside. Things had gone well. He had fetched several buckets of fresh water and had returned for two more. However, as he recovered yet another bucketful, a winged shape loomed overhead causing Matthew to cry out in terror.

"You can't just stand and watch this?" Hadwyn protested. Caradoc ignored his complaints.

The wyvern landed beside Matthew and its teeth were seen to pierce his stomach. Illusion or not, criminal or not, Hadwyn could not stay and do nothing as the creature feasted on Matthew's innards. Summoning up some willing soldiers to accompany him, they spread out across the square, shouting at the wyvern to distract it from its victim. Fortunately it seemed to work.

Unfortunately it was working. As Matthew's motionless body was dragged quickly away, the rest of Hadwyn's group, realising the danger, ran back to the safety of the castle. Luckily the wyvern could not manoeuvre easily on the ground. It spread its wings and lurched awkwardly to the door. Everyone had now withdrawn and at the last second, Hadwyn managed to slam the door in the snapping face.

Matthew lay unmoving on the stone floor.

In his chambers, Gaius was preparing a fresh batch of pain remedy when the door was thrown open and a body dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. Caradoc turned to Hadwyn who was struggling with the relatively simple task of closing the door behind him. It appeared to be sticking, but he eventually managed it.

Uther scowled at the young knight, rubbing his arm whilst Caradoc looked away in disgust at Hadwyn's incompetence.

"Gaius, I was under the impression that the beasts outside were nothing more than an illusion."

"Indeed they are," replied Gaius. He was unsure where this was leading.

"Then perhaps you can explain to me how this man came to be dead," said Caradoc fiercely.

Gaius studied the body carefully before giving his verdict.

"My best guess is, as a result of the illusions triggering the body's natural response to the stimulus of danger, excessive strain was placed on this man's heart. The damage caused was too great. In all probability he was, in short, literally scared to death."

"So now even illusions can kill?" Hadwyn asked.

"Yes, it would seem so. It is not entirely unexpected. In fact, I am surprised this hasn't happened sooner."

"So we are trapped inside the city with no way of summoning aid. If we go outside, we die. It doesn't look good, does it?" Hadwyn managed a half-hearted laugh apprehensively.

"Before we do anything else, I feel it would be wise to gather the members of the council who are fit and well regarding the matter at hand," suggested Gaius.

"I'm sure King Uther valued your opinions, but we are at war. Camelot no longer has a king, and in his absence we need a military man in charge rather than, with all due respect," though there was no respect in Caradoc's tone, "a mere _physician_."

"You don't by any chance mean you?" Gaius mused.

"My ambitions are solely to serve Camelot to the best of my ability."

"Ah, I understand," Gaius said. "You _do _mean you."

"And how do you intend to fight an enemy that isn't there," protested Hadwyn. "This isn't a war we can win with strength and steel alone. The enemy is magic and Gaius is the best expert we have."

"Yes. A little too expert if you ask me," Caradoc pondered slyly. "And how would you deal with the situation then, physician?"

"I cannot say. I fear there is very little that can be done, at least by us at this time. However if Prince Arthur-"

"Ah, the leader who so nobly fled the scene of battle."

"The leader who fled an otherwise hopeless battle for the chance of ending it," Hadwyn argued. Caradoc simply laughed.

"I would suggest the safety of the population is paramount," Gaius advised. You cannot attack these illusions without losing more men."

Caradoc raised his eyebrows. "Your powers of deduction are uncanny," he noted, the sarcasm dribbling vilely over his lips. "Unless you have any useful advice, I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself. Stick to treating the sick."

"I really think it would be a good idea to hold a meeting and discuss-" Hadwyn said, trying to act as an arbitrator between them, although Gaius wasn't a man to allow his feathers ruffled by an arrogant soldier, whether of noble birth or otherwise, and Hadwyn was not very adept at negotiations.

"I have been a loyal knight of Camelot longer than you and longer than anyone that isn't dead, dying or otherwise incapacitated," Caradoc interrupted him. "If you can think of anyone better suited to take command, on a purely temporary basis of course, then now is the time to speak." He knew that Hadwyn lacked assertiveness outside of the battlefield and when his reply came only in the form of uneasy silence, Caradoc grinned. "Well then, I guess that settles matters." He looked down at Gaius in contempt. "And if I find you interfering, I will have you confined to your chambers. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly."

Sir Caradoc left smiling, but Sir Hadwyn lingered in the doorway until he was out of sight and earshot.

"I'm sorry. He shouldn't have spoken to you like that."

"Apologies are hardly necessary, you are not at fault."

"Sir Caradoc was always power-hungry, ambitious," Hadwyn explained, partly to himself. "He was never disloyal, at least not to Uther. In some twisted way I think he begrudgingly admired him, particularly his tough stance regarding magic. He never seemed to see eye to eye with Arthur though. I think he considered him weak and foolish, though he'd never let it show. He was smart, but there were small signs. You should be careful," he warned.

"I'll bear that in mind."

"If there's anything I can do to assist you?"

"I think I can manage." Hadwyn nodded. "Thank you," Gaius added.

"I'll send someone round to…. You know." Hadwyn indicated Matthew's corpse which had been left spread-eagled on Gaius's floor. "Right then. I'll leave you to your work." Hadwyn departed the room in awkward silence and Gaius returned to his potion making.

Meanwhile, Uther was astonished at the dark turn events seemed to be taking. It would be a blatant lie if he had said he trusted each of his knights implicitly; there were very few people for which Uther would completely let down his guard. Still, each of the knights of Camelot had proved their worth or they wouldn't be here. Sir Caradoc had served him well for many years. The idea that all it took was his 'death' for his true colours to be revealed was deeply unsettling. What else went on behind his back? Sorcery was bad enough, being invisible was bad enough, but having to watch your kingdom revert to the rule of a madman at the same time was intolerable.

Except Caradoc wasn't mad. He was undoubtedly clever and his huge build gave him a fearsome presence. Brains and brawn in tandem were a dangerous combination and Caradoc knew exactly how to use both to his advantage. He fought and trained with the same people everyday and in doing so knew exactly how to manipulate them. He knew which physiological buttons to press to invoke a response, when it was appropriate to ingratiate himself and when it was safer just to back down. While he chose to chose to bully Sir Hadwyn as if he were a bothersome child, he was on much better terms with others. Yes, there were some who saw right through him, but he was careful not to give them any solid grounds for complaint. That was the secret of his success.

In contrast, Uther saw the world as a ruler; he was superior to everyone and looked down on everyone. If he wanted someone to do something, they did it. It was simple. His eyes had been blinded by kingship, constantly seeking out the larger picture, but missing everything except what lay directly beneath his nose. After only a short time observing with nobody aware of his presence, it became clear that reality had a lot more depth than he'd previously envisioned. To any other man this may have been enlightening, even humbling. To Uther it was maddening. It only added, if such a thing were possible, to his all-consuming desperation to return to his former state. He was damned if he was going to let some egotistical upstart run his kingdom. Not while there was a single breath left inside a Pendragon's body.

Here in the room with him was one of the few people that Uther _could_ bring himself to trust and, to be fair, was probably the only person with any chance of helping him out of his current predicament.

However, Gaius remained totally unaware of Uther's futile efforts in the background. He didn't notice when the king tapped his shoulder, smashed a jar on the floor or stared fixatedly at him for several minutes. He _did_ notice when a breeze from the open window scattered some loose papers across the floor and that he had seemed to have misplaced his willow bark, but he thought very little of it. Eventually Uther was forced to admit defeat and left the room, slamming the door loudly behind him. Gaius didn't even look up from his work.

"You're brave," a voice exclaimed. It was in the room with Gaius but sounded distant as if someone was calling up from the bottom of a deep well. "But giving Uther the silent treatment. Are you sure that's such a good idea?"

"Merlin?"

"Gaius! You can hear me. It worked… I think. It's a bit dark. What was the king doing here… I mean there? I thought he'd never leave."

"What on Earth are you talking about? And where are you?" Gaius asked. He eventually followed the voice to his cluttered workbench. He still couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, except he was sure he'd left an empty jar next to the mortar and pestle. He heard a crunching sound beneath his feet. _Strange? _It now lay broken on the floor? Carefully kneeling down, Gaius examined under the table. There was nothing else there save for some filthy water Merlin had failed to throw out after scrubbing the floors. He didn't want to know how long that had been there. After peering inside, his head smacked against the underside of the table in surprise.

"Merlin!" he said on all-threes; his fourth was rubbing his newly acquired bump. "What is your head doing in a bucket?"

* * *

"Merlin? Merlin? No!" Ailith screamed, casting a stone violently into the pool. Merlin was the name of the sorcerer her 'sister' had mentioned, she was sure if it. That meant he was still alive. Mildryd had deceived her. Well, so be it. The young warlock had not managed to thwart her plans so far and if he sought her out, she would be waiting. Her main reason for concern was the motive behind the deception. Was it merely an attack of conscience or cowardice or was it more? Did the others know her secret that she was not who she appeared to be?

No, she finally decided. Mildryd was troublesome, yes, but not too bright, at least when it came to noticing the obvious. She was sure her identity was still safe, but she would have to be careful. Ailith glared furiously into the settling water. Set into a younger face than the one she'd borrowed from her former teacher, a face that was framed by flaming red hair, the cold grey eyes of Eda, daughter of Eadric, glared back.


	14. Through the Marshes

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed and generally to anyone who is actually still reading this. (Btw to emerald97, I left you a reply on my profile seeing as you weren't logged in. Dunno if you do have an account or not. Thanks!)**

**So here's chapter 14 and we're finally going to get to the swamp as I promised. In the next few chapters the focus will be on Merlin and Arthur rather than Uther and Camelot. I'm sure you'll approve. Anyway, that's enough of my ramblings. Enjoy! :D**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Having agreed unquestionably that travelling through the swamplands in darkness would not be a wise decision, Merlin and Arthur decided to make camp for the night. They found a small clearing at the northernmost edge of the woods and from there it was a short ride before they reached the marshes.

Merlin wandered though the trees alone, gathering wood for the fire. Mostly it was damp, but if he could distract Arthur for a few brief seconds that would not be a problem. He came across a small stream winding its way through the forest. Eventually it would reach a small village to the west of where they were now. According to Arthur, this was the closest they would get to passing another settlement on their journey. Poor farmland and a lack of resources that couldn't be found just as readily elsewhere meant that this region was very sparsely populated. It would seem that Heolstor, which lay in a remote point at the farthest northeast point of Uther's realm, was the exception. It had a rare, almost unique, natural resource in the form of magic. Of course, this magic seeped out over the entire land, but Heolstor was the place where the power was at its strongest.

Dumping the pile of firewood at his feet, Merlin sat beside the bank of the stream. In front of him, the water collected in a small pool, before cascading down the banking to his left. He gazed into the water contemplatively. He was worried about Camelot, about what was happening there in his absence. He was worried about Gaius and about Gwen, both of whom were surely worrying about him. Picking up a stick, he made rippled patterns in the water as he aimlessly twirled it through the water's surface. If only there was some way to get word back home.

Then an idea struck him. He was a sorcerer after all. He remembered reading about a spell; an extension of scrying using water, by which two-way communication was possible - in theory. Merlin had never attempted either before now. There had been little need seeing as how the only person he could talk to was Gaius, and whenever there was trouble Merlin usually already had a front-row seat. There was only one way to find out if it would work. Merlin began tracing a runic shape in the water and chanted.

"_Álýme mé hústwiste. Áliefe mé to mælaan mid mín niedfréondes." _

The shape of Merlin's rune was outlined in effervencence before the fizzing stopped and the waters rippled outwards from a single point. His refection diappeared to reveal… well, nothing much. He could see a dark brown surface, possibly wooden, directly above him. Odd. He could however, hear voices.

"If there's anything I can do to assist you?" said a voice Merlin vaguely recognised, but couldn't place. One of the knights at the castle? Merlin never spoke to them much.

"I think I can manage. Thank you." That was Gaius. Encouraging. At least he had ended up in the right place. He probably should have thought this through before acting. If he had turned up in Uther's bedchambers by accident, the consequences wouldn't bear thinking about. Still, it was too late now.

The sound of a closing door indicated that the other man had left. Merlin could hear Gaius grinding herbs and tinkling with glass bottles. So, he was working and that meant he was in his chambers. Merlin wondered why he couldn't see anything. Merlin was just about to speak when he heard another pair of footsteps in the room. Gaius still was not alone.

The other man - Merlin assumed it was a man as the footfalls were heavy - strode towards Gaius.

"Gaius, please I know I can rely on you. I need you to take notice of me."

_Uther? _What was the king doing here and why was Gaius paying no attention to him.

"Damn it!" The king shouted. There was the sound of glass shattering on the floor. Something had been deliberately thrown, apparently by Uther given the current temper he was in. Was Gaius insane? You did not just ignore the king, especially when that king was Uther Pendragon.

Merlin hoped he would leave soon. It didn't take this long to collect firewood and even allowing for incompetence, Arthur would still be wondering where he was.

"I'm stood right in front of you so LISTEN to me!" There was a further clattering and a rustling as more items and probably some paper were flung off the workbench. "Gaius!" Uther yelled, positively fuming. He paced furiously back and forth before sighing and making an unmistakable exit, banging the door closed behind him and causing a pile of books to topple over.

"You're brave," Merlin finally exclaimed, now satisfied that only himself and Gaius were present. "But giving Uther the silent treatment. Are you sure that's such a good idea?"

"Merlin?" Gaius said.

"Gaius! You can hear me. It worked… I think. It's a bit dark. What was the king doing here…? I mean there? I thought he'd never leave."

"What on Earth are you talking about? And where are you?" Gaius asked. After some noises of movement, Gaius's head emerged above him. As it smacked against the roof of the table, Merlin winced.

"Merlin!" Gaius exclaimed, his hand reaching to rub his head. "What is your head doing in a bucket?"

"Oh, is that where I ended up?" said Merlin.

"You're under the table." Gaius explained. Merlin's image sloshed about as Gaius lifted the bucket out and placed it on the tabletop. Merlin still couldn't see much other than the ceiling and Gaius's face, but it was lighter at least. "What are you doing here? Where are you really?" Gaius asked him.

"Erm, I'm in a wood. There're… trees and things. I'm not completely sure where we are, but we're heading north to Heolstor. I wanted to let you know we're alright and we're going to try and stop this."

"Is Arthur with you?"

"Yes," Merlin answered. Gaius looked relieved. "Never mind that," Merlin said. "Why were you ignoring Uther?"

"Uther?" Gaius frowned. "Merlin, Uther's missing. The sorceress came here, caused a fire." Merlin remembered looking back at the castle and seeing flames. "And he hasn't been seen since."

"No," said Merlin, confused. "He was here."

"You must be mistaken."

"Mistaken?! He was shouting and throwing things trying to make you to listen to him. He was furious. You don't exactly mistake something like that." Gaius could see that Merlin was serious.

"Merlin, if that is true then none of us can see or hear him."

"You mean Uther's invisible?" Merlin pondered. "Well things aren't all bad then." Gaius looked daggers at him. "Or maybe they are."

Gaius looked down at the broken jar and began to notice more mess scattered around the floor.

"It would seem that he still has a physical presence at least," Gaius determined from the evidence, "but we either don't notice it or feel compelled to ignore it. Things here are not looking good," he continued. "Sir Caradoc has taken it upon himself to take command in the king's stead. Uther is presumed dead."

"Caradoc?" Thought Merlin aloud. "Large man?" Gaius nodded. "Rude, selfish, arrogant, manipulative, marches around looking like he has a bad smell under his nose?"

"The very same. Already he's spreading the view that Arthur left out of cowardice."

"What?! That's ridiculous. Arthur's no coward. I practically had to drag him away from the battle, and now he's travelling to face goodness knows what and all for the sake of his people. Surely no one will believe what he says, will they, after all that Arthur's done? They think he killed a _dragon_."

"I honestly don't know," Gaius said. "The prince is popular, but there are those who feel he lacks the strength of his father. And Caradoc seems to have a way of twisting the truth."

Merlin was about to protest when he heard the cracking of twigs and rustling of undergrowth coming towards him. He looked around and could just make out a head of blonde hair moving behind a bush, searching for his useless servant.

"It's Arthur. I've got to go," Merlin whispered.

"Good luck and be careful," Gaius added quickly before Merlin's eyes flashed gold, ending the spell. He quickly gathered up the wood he was supposed to be fetching and strode out to meet Arthur.

"Merlin! What took you so long?" Arthur snapped. "I thought you'd been eaten by something, though I see now you haven't. I suppose in the greater scheme of things, there's a reason that should please me."

"Sorry, I forgot my head and had to go back for it," Merlin replied, alluding to that morning. It was not one of Merlin's better quips, but it would have to do. Arthur was not impressed.

"Come on," he said. They walked off together through the forest back to the place they'd made camp. Arthur looked at the bundle of sticks Merlin was carrying. "You know, you'll never get that to light."

***

Later that evening, as the last lingering twilight began to fade into darkness, Merlin and Arthur lay next to the roaring campfire's warm glow, anticipating and discussing the journey that lay ahead.

"The sorceress wants us to go to Heolstor, so she's hardly going to attack us before we get there," Arthur reasoned to a somewhat anxious Merlin. He'd noticed that Merlin had something on his mind, but he didn't realise what. He thought the boy was worried about what might happen to them, and Arthur took that opportunity to wind him up no-end.

"I suppose."

"Between us we've already been stabbed, poisoned, attacked by wyverns as well as our own soldiers," Arthur pointed out. "And you've been killed."

"In a manner of speaking."

"So, the chances of a completely unrelated misfortune occurring at the same time we're dealing with everything else, I would say, are pretty slim."

"Oh, thank you," remarked Merlin loudly. "You _had_ to say that didn't you?"

"Say what?"

"You know what." Arthur smiled back at Merlin.

"Look, what could poss-" Arthur began.

"No!" Merlin interrupted, hands hovering over his ears. "Don't you dare. If something happens now, I'm blaming you."

"I'm a prince," Arthur laughed. "So you can't blame me."

"Try and stop me." Arthur shook his head. Merlin really was like a child sometimes.

"It's only a haunted swamp," Arthur said.

"Wait a minute… haunted? You never said it was haunted."

"Actually I did," Arthur corrected him. "But it's hardly my fault if you're deaf."

"Haunted. Great. That's just great. We're doomed."

"We're not _doomed_."

"You couldn't have said that with a little more certainty?" asked Merlin nervously.

"What could possibly go wrong?" Arthur teased. Merlin scowled and rolled over on the ground so his back was to the prince.

"I hate you," Merlin said.

"I know," Arthur replied. His face wore a small grin behind him. "Night, Merlin."

"Night, Sire." Merlin fidgeted about where he lay, trying to get comfortable. The wind rustled through the overhanging branches. "But you know a lot of ghost stories do have some truth in them."

"Night, Merlin."

After readjusting the pack on which his head was resting, Merlin twisted about to lie on his back again. An owl could be heard hooting in the distance.

"There's probably nothing in this one though," he thought aloud.

"_Goodnight_ Merlin."

"Night Arthur." One of the horses snorted loudly. Merlin sighed and closed his eyes. "Although," he added, opening them again.

"Merlin."

"Yes?" replied Merlin, enthusiastically.

"Go to sleep."

***

Merlin and Arthur extinguished the fire and set off again at first light. As they passed beyond the tree line, the swampland spread out before them, a massive expanse of putrid, foul-smelling ooze. Swirling clouds of grey fog clung like limpets to the murky surface of the greenish waters and twisting through the large marshy patches, the pathway stretched ahead of them, raised up on a foundation of densely packed stones. It was just wide enough for the pair to ride single-file across this miserable landscape.

Merlin and Arthur set out along the meandering trail. As they progressed towards the centre of the swamp, the shape of a tall tower began to emerge out of the gloom. It stood as a monument to a time when the land was fair, but now it was diseased. It lay sprawling, a huge festering sore in the wilderness, with all its former beauty having leeched away.

The air was dank and oppressive and the atmosphere between the two young travellers was not much better. The whole place was depressing and what's more Merlin didn't feel compelled to talk. Part of him wished he had never spoken to Gaius last night. Yes, the consequences were productive and Gaius knew now that Uther was alive and well – sort of. If anyone could sort Uther's predicament, it was Gaius. But what if he couldn't? Things did not look good. Merlin was also worried about Arthur and the affect this whole incident was having on his reputation. Uther was 'dead' for all intents and purposes and his heir had vanished without a trace, leaving no explanation for his absence. That did not bode well.

Arthur was better off not knowing about his father. It was just as well because Merlin could not tell him anyway. Arthur already had enough to worry about. He may try to bury it inside, but Merlin knew that he was deeply concerned about the well-being of Camelot and he did not know the half of it. Also, the prince was no fool. So, he could be slightly oblivious at times. _Many times_, Merlin thought. But stupid? Never. The prince knew perfectly well that he could be riding to his death and Merlin knew he would give his life willingly to protect his people. What Arthur didn't know is that Merlin would never ever let that happen.

The pair continued onwards. Other than the clip-clopping of hooves on the cobbles, it was silent. Eerily silent. It took a while for Merlin to fathom why, but then it hit him. The waters were filled with a strange-looking black weed, the likes of which Merlin had never seen before, but that aside there was no other life here. The skeletons of the long-dead trees reaching out of the marsh were unfrequented by birds and there were no telltale ripples to indicate fish or even insects inhabited this place. There was no croaking, no chirruping, no snuffling, or any sounds of wildlife at all.

Arthur's voice finally broke through the quietness.

"Well this is… pleasant," he said.

"Yes, I can see now why we came this way. There's a lot to be said for the scenic route," Merlin replied. Arthur looked around at his bleak surroundings.

"Have you seen any ghosts?" Arthur asked cheerfully.

"Not yet," Merlin answered. He heard a splashing each time his horse's feet struck the wet causeway. Merlin stopped. "Is it me or is this water rising?"

"It's you," Arthur stated, before actually inspecting it for himself and noticing the water lapping up the sides of the path. "The water level is bound to be a bit higher than usual with all the rain we've had recently."

"Right," said Merlin, unconvinced. That was when he began hearing voices. It was a faint melodic sound. "Is that you singing?" He asked, frowning.

"Singing?" said Arthur, perplexed. "No. I don't sing," he assured him. He continued riding along. "_Except_ for that one time," Arthur added quickly before Merlin had the chance to correct him, "And we both know I was drunk." He closed his eyes and shuddered at the recollection. The few memories that had survived by the next morning were more than enough. "Very drunk."

"Erm, Arthur," Merlin called ahead to Arthur who was now some distance in front of him. His voice was laden with unease. In any ordinary situation, he would have loved to torment Arthur further about various embarrassments longing to be forgotten, but he was getting a little too worried at the moment to be concerned with amusing himself. At the moment, he was too busy concerning himself with being concerned. "A little help might be good."

"What have you done now?" Arthur asked exasperatedly as he turned around to find Merlin stranded by water, which was bubbling and getting higher and higher around him, cutting him off from the prince. Merlin was trying to control his horse as the beast panicked and tried to escape the rising water that surrounded them. His frightened eyes met Arthur's and Arthur's stared back in shock.

Arthur's own horse was backing away nervously from the foam and refused to respond to his commands. Arthur dismounted and rushed to Merlin's aid on foot, splashing through the churning waters to reach him. However, before he could get to him, Merlin's horse reared up, throwing its rider off the flooded causeway and into the deeper water of the swamp. Merlin sank beneath the surface.

"Merlin!" Arthur cried out. He breathed a sigh of relief when his servant's head bobbed back up gasping. But suddenly, Merlin was dragged back under by something Arthur could not see.

Arthur was about to wade towards the stream of bubbles rising from the depths. He hoped he could reach him before he sank too deep as he wouldn't be able to swim properly without first removing his heavy armour.

He failed to notice the black weed's tendrils snaking towards his horse behind him. Neither did he notice the animal's front hooves flailing in the air to his rear until it was too late. They collided brutally with the back of his head, sending his world spinning. As he lingered on the brink of unconsciousness, the last thing he saw before his blurred vision faded to blackness was Merlin's pale face disappearing slowly, downwards into the murk.

* * *

**Cliffie! Mwah ha ha!**

**The next chapter is going to be a bit of a challenge to write. Consider yourself warned. I'll try not to leave you waiting too long. In the meantime, do let me know what you think.**


	15. Descent

**Thanks for all the reviews. I know you were all eagerly anticipating the next chapter seeing as how I left you on a cliffie, so I've updated quickly… In a manner of speaking. Don't be too mad at me for dragging this thing out. I didn't have time to write more today.**  
**There's not much, I'm not sure if it worked, and either way you are most likely going to hate me. I was actually in two minds about whether to split the next part like this, even before I posted the last chapter and I have done despite my reservations. I've probably just made things a lot worse for you.

* * *

**

**Chapter 15**

The pale rippling glow of sunlight grew fainter and fainter as Merlin sank deeper through the icy green water of the swamp. He struggled, trying to reach the surface and the sweet taste of air as it grew increasingly distant. But his attempts were all futile. It was as if the swamp itself were alive, or at least under the control of a living mind – or perhaps, more likely, a dead one. He could feel the water compressing him, pushing down on him from above. Down and down to the same shadowy depths from which the singing came.

Surely, there must be some form of magic he could use to get himself out of this, but Merlin's oxygen-starved brain was unable to think. As black weeds crept upwards from out of the gloom, twisting painfully around his arms and legs and pulling, Merlin tried instinctively to sever them. He managed one or two, before his magic would no longer come. He could hear his heart thumping in his chest. Its beat had slowed as he entered the cold water, trying to keep him alive as long as possible, but it was little use. His bursting lungs screamed to him that. He only knew one thing; he was going to die. He was dying.

As he begun to accept this, Merlin could see his life trickling away from him; bubbles streaming to the surface towards the distant light. Soon there would be a light for him to follow. Maybe he would see his father again, and Freya.

No, he didn't want to think like that. He was not afraid, but he didn't want to die. He didn't want to die like this.

Drifting downwards, He thought of his mother and of Gaius and wished he could have said goodbye. He thought of kind Gwen and of Morgana, so strong and yet so lost. His betrayal of her trust still tore him up inside. And of course, he thought of Arthur, his coin's other half. Arthur who needed him to wash his socks, clean his room, and save his life time after time because a hero cannot always save himself. Arthur who needed him now.

He couldn't leave them all. Not like this, without reason.

But he could feel himself leaving, as his body gave one last cry for help. He was going. As his mind grew blank and his vision darkened, his last thought was the certainty that he had, in fact, gone.

* * *

Far above him, Arthur lay back, eyes closed. His head was reclined on a pillow of thick brown mud and water softly lapped at his legs. He rested peacefully, blissfully unaware of the horrors around him.

To the rear of his head, his horse lay, struggling pitifully, but with little strength remaining. The poor creature had been overcome by the mysterious black weed, which twisted round its body and every limb, even burrowing into its flesh. It cried out in pain as the plant's limbs recoiled back into the water and the animal was dragged below. Merlin's horse was nowhere to be seen.

Through all of this, Arthur lay breathing, but unresponsive.

Not too far away from him, the crumbling tower stood dolorously, alone in this marshy wasteland. From the roof, a hooded woman looked down over the scene.

* * *

It was dark and cold and wet.

Up from the depths rose the unearthly tinkle of a child's sweet voice.

_"When darkness has fallen and shadows have come_  
_And when daytime reaches its end_  
_Close softly your eyes, for to sleep well my dear_  
_My dear_  
_My dear_  
_For the night's little lights are your friends_  
_Oh my love_  
_The night's little lights are your friends._"

_"And when you hear wailing from beasts in the night_  
_From the monsters the dark, cold night sends_  
_Shut out the scratching and banish the fear_  
_The fear_  
_The fear_  
_For the night's little lights are your friends_  
_Oh my love_  
_The night's little lights are your friends._"

_The mother leaned over her child's warm head_  
_And a caressing hand she extends_  
_And she left a white candle's warm comforting glow_  
_Warm glow_  
_Warm glow_  
_For the night's little lights were all friends_  
_For her love_  
_The night's lights were all friends._

_Her home it was draughty, the candle went out_  
_On its flame she'd begun to depend_  
_So the girl looked outside, seeing lights, hearing song_  
_A song_  
_Strange song_  
_"All the night's little lights are your friends_"  
_Voices sang_  
_"The night's little lights are your friends_"

_So the girl crept outside in the pale moonlight_  
_Walking barefoot the path to attend_  
_The pretty light's dance at the water's calm edge_  
_Calm edge_  
_Calm edge_  
_For the night's little lights were her friends_  
_And they sang_  
_"The night's little lights are your friends_"

_The lights drew her deeper away from the shore_  
_For that's what the wisp-fire intends_  
_Luring their victim, then pulling her down_  
_To drown _  
_To drown_  
_But she'd thought the night's lights were her friends_  
_With their song_  
_She'd thought the night's lights were her friends_

Merlin's pale body bobbed gently, head lolling and he was tethered to the bottom of the lake by the weeds that bound him.

_The water grows heavy, the moonlight grows dim_  
_As breathless she slowly descends_  
_And down in the dark depths she's lurking there still_  
_There still_  
_There still_  
_With the night's little lights as her friends_  
_And she sings_  
_"The night's little lights are my friends_"

The white figure smiled and approached Merlin's limp form. She caressed Merlin's cheek with clammy fingers and regarded him curiously, tilting his chin, examining him

**"Will _you_ be my friend?"** The girl asked.

Merlin opened his eyes.


	16. Above and Below

**I was bad. Very very bad and wrote the next chapter already. That's good for you but not for me as I'm wasting time I don't have. The next update will take longer (I do mean that this time).**

**Thanks for all the reviews. Thanks now to 'emerald.97', 'Jenn' and 'Cliffhanger hater' (I'm sorry!) . I'll try not to be that cruel to my readers again for a while and I have updated really quickly for you all. Hope this chapter makes up it and doesn't disappoint. More creepiness and some action. ****(Assume all the conversation between Merlin and the girl is telepathic seeing as Merlin is unable to talk.)**

**Enjoy! **

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**Chapter 16**

The girl's cold touch on his face caused Merlin to stir in his bonds and he heard a young female voice in his mind. As he regained consciousness, he began to notice his entire body was hurting and the more he noticed the more painful it became. The air around him also felt unnaturally heavy. The last memory he had was of drowning and sinking helplessly under, but he was sure the afterlife should not feel like this, so somehow he must have been saved.

Merlin opened his eyes. The world around him was blurred and distorted but he did not need to see well to comprehend the trouble he was in. The air wasn't heavy; he was still underwater and he was not alone. Around him were the bodies of the drowned, in various stages of decay up to and including bare skeletons, with weed threading its way through their bones. They appeared to have been trapped in a similar situation to him, except for the fact they were long dead. Merlin was fully aware the same fate awaited him unless he could find a way out of this.

Merlin didn't know how he was even still alive now. He should be dead. There was no dry air in his watery prison so how was he breathing? It was impossible.

_Oh._

A shiver ran down Merlin's spine, which had nothing to do with the temperature. He came to the dreadful realisation that he _hadn't _drawn a single breath since waking. Not one. He had not even felt the need. But he would know if he were dead, surely?

Merlin shot the ghost-like figure a look of detestation. She was now floating beside him running a set of decayed-looking fingers through his short hair. There was a faraway expression in her pale eyes.

"What have you done to me?" Merlin jabbed the thought forcefully back at her. She had spoken to him in his mind so he assumed she could hear him too. Her face lit up. Apparently, she was unused to people who talked back.

"Will you be my friend?" she asked again.

"Friendship is rarely earned by trapping someone at the bottom of a swamp," Merlin countered, struggling against the weeds that bound him. The girl scowled. He winced as the she tugged roughly at his hair and his head was jerked backwards.

"You shouldn't be naughty. Naughty boys are punished." She released him abruptly and blinked purposefully.

Merlin looked down at the weed. It had coiled around him, piercing his body in several places by growing through his clothing and into his flesh. But now several tendrils of the plant were recoiling and pain ripped through him as the twisting stems, which had branched out under his skin, were forced out of him through their narrow, original points of entry. His eyes widened in fear as he became increasingly light-headed and the previously suppressed urge to inhale began to come over him. He knew he couldn't but he needed air. He really needed air.

"I don't want to be your friend anymore," the girl said bitterly.

If Gaius had been here, he could have produced a heavy volume on freshwater plant life and gone on at length about the remarkable and terrible properties of this particular species. If he'd had access to greater knowledge, he could have described in detail the mechanisms by which the weed facilitated the exchange of vital gases between itself and its host to keep its victim fresh and alive whilst it very gradually fed. All Merlin knew was that somehow these vile weeds were responsible for his present survival in this environment. How ironic that his bonds had also been his lifeline.

Now he was dying. Again. This time however, he found himself able to clutch onto the magic that flowed through him and act. He couldn't reach the surface so there was but one choice, but it was going to hurt. He recoiled as the tips of the plant stabbed back into him and his golden eyes screwed up tightly, but straight away he could feel his strength beginning to return.

The girl's face changed from anger to shear delight.

"Oooh, you're a magician," she said gleefully, despite the clear suffering on Merlin's features. "Maybe you can be my friend after all…. If you're nice to me."

Merlin looked up, glowering.

"Were they your friends?" He asked her, referring to the bodies. The girl smiled, sickly sweet.

"I invited them here. They didn't like me at first, but now they'll stay with me forever. Pretty lights at night. The night's little lights are all my friends. Flames dancing in the dark. They bring me more friends," she said in her singsong voice.

Merlin had heard stories of 'corpse candles' or 'will o the wisps' that lured travellers into marshes. Were they here, at night? Did the souls of the dead shine enchantingly in the darkness to bring more 'friends' for this drowned child? It that how she herself had got here, a victim of their call?

Merlin looked at the girl and a small part of himself pitied her. A lonely child stuck in this dank and horrid place. But this bleak existence would darken even the lightest of souls and this was no innocent youngster; she had been here far longer than Merlin had even been alive. She may have the mind of a child, but she had learned to control the marsh itself and use it for her own purposes and she had no qualms about how many lives she took for one brief moment of companionship.

The white nightdress flowing serenely around her, the pale bare feet gliding softly across the mud without touching, she was bound in this image forever. But behind the straggly locks hanging damply in front of her pasty white skin and glassy eyes, there was blackness. Merlin was just another plaything for her. A novelty that was soon sure to wear off.

"What's your name?" The girl asked softly.

"Merlin."

"Show me some magic, Merlin. Pretty magic. Pretty please."

"I can't say spells like this."

That was not completely true. He had been practicing working non-verbal magic. For now, this involved focussing on the incantations in his mind instead of saying them aloud. After, all if he could move objects just by thinking, why shouldn't he be able to develop that ability? Unfortunately, Merlin had not progressed beyond the ability to perform routine chores without talking. Naturally, Gaius did not approve of this method of practice and pointed out that even ordinary people can manage to do work without saying anything, on a daily basis, _and_ they don't usually set the curtains accidentally on fire in the process. The ability to polish armour, scrub floors or dry Arthur's laundry in an instant was hardly useful for getting himself out of this.

"Make magic for me." the girl pouted.

"No." She scratched his face.

"Make lights for me NOW! Sorcerers make pretty lights. One way, you _will_ make a light for me soon."

"No, I don't think I will."

"You're no fun, Merlin. Maybe your friend will want to be my friend instead."

"Arthur!" Merlin's head screamed in panic.

The girl's mouth curled up into a grin as she began humming. The effect was terrifying.

* * *

Far above them, the waters began to rise around Arthur's unconscious form.

The prince began to stir as the water bubbled against his cheek and gurgled in his ear. He blinked. _Whoa_, his head did hurt. Where was he? He seemed to be lying in a pool of water.

Rising water.

He did a double take and his eyes widened in shock. He scrambled crab-like backwards onto the relative safety of the causeway and stood up but the water was still creeping towards him. It was now lapping around his feet and from out of the deeper water, a series of thin black vine-like extensions burst forth and seized him roughly by the ankle, throwing him off balance.

Arthur lashed out with his sword and the severed tips loosened from his leg while the rest flailed in the air before splashing back into the water. But the water was still getting higher.

* * *

"Alright, I'll try. Just stop it, please." Merlin begged.

"Very well. You see, all you have to do is behave. It's not so bad is it?"

Merlin closed his eyes and knowing it was almost certainly a big mistake, he concentrated on conjuring a magical flame. Upon opening his eyes, he surprised himself as he saw a golden ball of fire flickering gently above the girl's head. She was looking up at it in awe. With newfound confidence from this success, he turned his attention to finding a way out of his dire predicament whilst the girl stood transfixed.

It did not look good. He didn't know any spells that would allow him to breathe underwater and he had not even attempted teleportation before, seeing as the miniature whirlwind that apparently resulted from such magic was hardly discrete. Technically speaking, however unlikely it may be, it was possible his situation _could _get worse. He could, for example, end up transporting himself midair over a cliff or to the bottom of an ocean even deeper than where he was currently residing. So that was out of the question. He could free himself from the weeds easily enough, but where would that leave him? There was no way he would be able to reach the surface if he severed the weeds that tethered him to life here. If only it wasn't so far.

Then Merlin had an idea. A crazy and improbable idea that would take an incredible amount of effort, but an idea nonetheless. If he could dry Arthur's shirts and trousers using magic, then why not a swamp. If he could not swim up to the surface, why not bring the surface down to him? Sure, the swamp was a little bigger than laundry, and he was in it, but the principle must surely be the same.

The girl did not notice as Merlin silently envisioned the spell. He felt his magic surge into action as it became focused on the task in hand. It was a while before Merlin began to notice a change, but the sunlight from above was gradually getting brighter. He hoped that it would be over soon, as it was taking all his strength to maintain this spell _and _keep the girl entertained so she would not hurt him or Arthur. He was also sure that the weeds were sapping something from him. Presumably, they were keeping him alive so they could do just that.

Looking above him, Merlin could now see the ripples on the water's surface descending rapidly towards him. Should he make a break for it? The trouble was he was already trying to keep two spells going at once. He was not sure he could manage a third in order to break the weeds. He would just have to wait.

"Nooo!" came a sudden shriek from the girl, as Merlin realised in horror that the light she was now staring at was not the glowing ball he had made for her, but rather the blurry orb of the sun. She knew what he was trying to do. He had been caught.

* * *

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as the water began receding around him. As he clutched at the back of his head, he tried to remember what was going on. Then it all came flooding back.

_Merlin. _

Merlin was drowning. How long had he been under? Arthur didn't know how long he had been unconscious but the sun had moved noticeably across the sky during that time. There was no sign anywhere and Arthur wasn't even certain where Merlin had vanished anymore. The swamp was huge. How could he possibly find him? The memory of blue eyes looking up at him out of the water was haunting.

"Merlin!" Arthur called out to him. Maybe he had managed to get out of this on his own, useless idiot though he was. Maybe he was around here somewhere. "MERLIN!" But there was nothing.

"NO!" he shouted, throwing his sword down with a clatter and circling restlessly. He kicked a stone into the water and clutched at his mud-tangled hair. Merlin was surely dead and it was all his fault. He had brought him here. He was the one who couldn't save him, because of a _horse_.

Even so, part of Arthur still expected Merlin to creep up behind him and ask him casually why he was staring at the water whilst trying to conceal a knowing smile – badly. He would have turned round in amazement as Merlin stood grinning widely at his bemused expression. This did not happen, however, nor was it going to. There was no illusion this time. This Merlin had really been Merlin, not another in disguise and the swamp was real; there were no figments here.

But hadn't the water been deeper than that to begin with? Why was the level sinking back so low? There were stones and dead branches lying in the mud that had not been visible before. Arthur picked up his sword again. He did not know what good it could do him, but he felt safer with its weight in his fist. This wasn't natural, hence it wasn't good. He had already lost Merlin. Whatever lay in store, he was not going to allow himself to be killed here so Camelot could be lost too.

Out of nowhere, more of the weed sprung forth. Arthur swiped at it. One. Two. Three. A flash of black reflected in his sword. He spun round. Four. The fifth latched onto his leg and sent him flying forward. Fighting back against its pull, he managed to draw his leg closer to himself and cut it just in time to roll away from the sixth. He picked himself up again, breathing heavily and whirled round to make sure there was no more.

Satisfied, but slightly dizzy – his head now felt a whole lot worse – he looked ahead at the swamp. It was now almost completely drained. Scattered across the vast mudflats were bodies, their limbs all snared by the weed, now limp. There were men, women, children, several horses and… _Merlin_.

He leapt down from the path and struggled towards him, the mud slowing down his swift progress. The remaining weed wriggled pathetically on the ground. Arthur stepped on it. He was just splashing through the last remaining puddles to get to Merlin when… _whoosh. _A pale hand shot out of the water, grasping. He jumped back, but the small fist evaporated from her fingers down her arm. Arthur stared. He saw a young girl's face staring menacingly from the puddle, before it too dried away.

Going over to Merlin's body, he crouched down, knees sinking beside him. Merlin's clothes were ripped and round lesions covered his skin. He lay surrounded by the same weed that had attacked him, but it was now lifeless – _lifeless like Merlin_, Arthur thought. But wait…was that a pulse he could feel in Merlin's neck? _The stubborn–_

"Come on you idiot, breathe! For once in your life follow a simple order."

Merlin gulped in a lungful of air, and another.

"Yes, sire!" he grunted. He opened his eyes slowly, squinting against the sunlight. It was pleasantly warm against his face. He took another long breath relishing every last particle of it.

"Ha!" Arthur laughed in relief. "You…. You…. Ha ha!" Arthur punched Merlin gently in the shoulder.

"Ow," he moaned.

"Sorry," Arthur frowned. "Don't you dare scare me like that again, Merlin." Merlin coughed.

"It wasn't exactly intentional," he said weakly. He inhaled again deeply. "Mmm, that smells good."

"Err, we're in the middle of a festering swamp, surrounded by corpses. The smell is revolting," replied Arthur beginning to wonder if Merlin had suffered brain damage. Merlin sniffed again and grimaced.

"Ew. Actually, you're right. It is."

Arthur sighed as he carefully helped his servant to his feet. Merlin was back.

* * *

**I have no idea when I'll next be able to update. I'm about to start my final term of my final year at uni and I'm failing miserably at the moment. I hope you'll understand and can be patient. I will definitely be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, thanks so so much for all the lovely feedback especially as it's my first story. I really do appreciate it and I can't believe I'm nearly at 100 reviews. I love you guys!**


	17. Little Problems

****

I can't believe I've got 100 reviews. I know that's probably not that many given the length of the story, but I don't care, every one makes me really happy! Thank you so much to anybody who is reading this story. Here's a little bit of something to keep you going for a while. Sorry it's not much and no Merlin and Arthur I'm afraid. The next chapter will be back to them, but I want to focus on their stuff when I've more time, so who knows when that will be.  
(Reposted to edit typos.)

**Enjoy! :D**

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**Chapter 17**

Back in the city of Camelot, the foul scent of burning flesh wafted into the castle from outside. When night had fallen, the wyverns had slept, if illusions could sleep. Perhaps the sorceress was just toying with them. Nevertheless, they had taken advantage of the lull in the attack to dispose of the dead. They had also made numerous attempts to send word outside of Camelot, but any attempts to leave the city met with failure. An magical wall blocked any potential escape. They truly were sealed in.

The following day there was still no clues as to the King's fate and the larger rooms of the castle were filled with the recovering wounded or else refugees from the town who had made it to the relative safety of the castle. This was not a situation newly self-appointed leader, Sir Caradoc, was happy with.

"Is he serious? He can't do that." protested a young soldier whose recently bestowed knighthood was beginning to feel ill-timed. He was walking through the corridors of Camelot alongside Sir Hadwyn.

"Apparently, we need to protect our defensive forces first and foremost," Hadwyn answered regretfully.

"But what use are defensive forces if there's no one to defend?"

"That's what Sir Leon told him," Hadwyn explained. That was what they all were thinking, but only a few had actually voiced their opinion.

"How is Leon now?"

"Still not at all good, but remarkably well considering. Much better than the others, at least, as most still refuse to accept their pain is the consequence of sorcery alone. I can't say I blame them. I can scarcely believe some of it myself. All the same, Caradoc won't back down and Sir Leon's in no fit state be challenging anyone."

"Surely no one is actually _supporting_ Caradoc though?"

"Turquine, his brother, and a couple of others are," admitted Hadwyn. "The rest are blindly following orders like the rest of us since Dinadan spent last night in the dungeons."

"He can't do that. The knight's code…"

"…Seems to have flown out the window where he's concerned."

"It is our..." They paused as they passed an open doorway and saw Gaius talking to an empty room. The pair exchanged a puzzled glance, eyebrows raised, then shook their heads before the youngest knight resumed his train of thought. "It is our duty to protect the people," he continued as they threw open a set of doors to enter the large crowded hall. It was a large indoor camp, filled with townspeople who had fled in terror and sought refuge at the castle. "They look to us for safety and he wants us to turn them away. I realise that it's somewhat of an inconvenience," he continued, rolling his eyes as a young peasant boy, armed with a wooden sword and engaged in an epic battle with his brother, stumbled upon them. "But if we don't help them, why are we here?"

He turned to his companion waiting for a reply. Hadwyn was whispering advice into the young boy's ear who promptly disarmed his opponent with a smile.

"Those who are already here may remain, at least for the moment," Hadwyn said. He sighed as the two children ran off into the throng of people. He was uncertain how long that would last. He frowned at a noise from behind him.

"Baaaaaaaaa!" There was the sound of fabric ripping and a rhythmic chomping.

"What the...?" he turned round and looked in dismay at his torn cloak. "Who brought that here?" An older woman sheepishly tried to drag the happily munching animal away, avoiding eye contact with the knight. Hadwyn turned back to his companion.

"The people can stay," he announced, "But get rid of the goat," he added quietly. His friend nodded.

***

Gaius had been wandering round the palace trying to find some sign of Uther. He had visited the King's chambers first and found it a complete mess. It couldn't have been like that earlier, otherwise it would have been reported, the whole castle having been searched. Obviously the king wasn't happy. After many minutes spent trying to communicate with Uther, Gaius had concluded that he was no longer there or that any responses had been missed.

Several conversations with empty rooms later, and people were starting to question Gaius's sanity, and to be honest, Gaius was starting to question it himself. If it wasn't for his explicit trust in Merlin then he would have given up almost immediately, but he knew the king was around here somewhere. Gaius just had to find him, but how do you find someone you can't see or hear? All he had to go on were the little things: objects that had changed position somehow, wrecked rooms or people complaining of the feeling they were being watched. He would need to stay alert, keep an eye out for the subtle signs that he would ordinarily miss.

As he made his way back to his chambers he spotted a young serving girl step around to avoid nobody in her path.

"Uther?" The female servant stared at Gaius strangely at being addressed using the king's name. "Sire, is that you?"

"My name is Eve, and I'm just a servant," the girl said, indicating the food she was carrying whilst backing slowly away from the physician.

"He's not talking to you, foolish girl. Gaius, it's about time," Uther said.

"Are you there?" Gaius asked. The girl looked around her seeing nothing, looked at herself to make sure that she was definitely there, and then made a very hasty retreat.

"Gaius, you appear to be talking to a candlestick." Then realisation dawned on Uther. "You _still _can't see or hear me." Uther held his head in his hands. "Oh, this is intolerable."

"I appear to be talking to a candlestick," Gaius astutely observed. He turned and looked randomly about himself trying to determine if there was any sign of the king anywhere. He ended up facing ninety degrees from where Uther was standing. Uther pulled a face and sighed.

"I was returning to my chambers," Gaius told the corridor. "If you are here, you may wish to accompany me." He had no idea how he was supposed to communicate with him, but at least in the privacy of his own rooms, he would avoid the odd glances of passers by. "Maybe we'll be able to work this out."

And so Uther found himself once again in Gaius's chambers trying to attract attention. At least this time Gaius knew he was there. Uther supposed his multiple attempts at making contact had finally been successful. That was definitely preferable to him knowing the truth behind Gaius's sudden change in behaviour. If he knew that he'd had a conversation with Merlin's head in a bucket, Merlin's head would probably end up in a _basket _shortly after he returned.

"I am unsure how best to go about this," Gaius admitted to a set of shelves. "Maybe you should try moving something."

"That didn't work last time," Uther pointed out sceptically.

"Now, I realise that didn't work last time," said Gaius, "But hopefully if I'm focussing on nothing else then I will notice." Gaius picked up a small wooden bowl and placed it on the end of the table in the centre of the room. "If you would please move this bowl for me, sire."

Uther couldn't believe that it had come to this. He felt such a fool, completely helpless and forced to follow someone else's orders for a change. Playing stupid games like this was totally beneath him. With great tedium, he shoved the receptacle to the opposite end of the table and paused, waiting for a response. He stood, arms outstretched, leaning against the table's surface, waiting... waiting. He picked it up and slammed it down hard onto the wood. Still waiting.

Gaius blinked then observed the bowl was no longer in its original location, but he hadn't seen it move.

_Finally!_

Still, it proved that Uther was around, even if it didn't show that the king was massaging his forehead and had just been overcome by a strange compulsion to bang said forehead against the wall, repeatedly.

How two-way communication was going to be possible, Gaius had no idea. Plus, having no knowledge of how to deal with a problem like this, and certainly not without using magic, he found he had no idea what to say.

"Are you... well?" This time Gaius could not fail to notice as the table overturned at his remark.

"Aside from your obvious problems, of course," Gaius added. Uther could always be pretty terrible when enraged, but when he had no idea where the king was, it felt like being blindfolded in the same room as a rampaging bull. Gaius pulled out a quill and a roll of parchment.

"Maybe we could try writing."

'_Do you believe I would not have tried this already? My patience is wearing thin. How do you intend to fix this?' _wrote Uther hurriedly.

Gaius looked at the note Uther had scribbled, but it appeared to be gibberish. Apparently the sorceress had foreseen this and the magic surrounding Uther prevented all forms of communication, spoken, written or otherwise. Gaius sat down, defeated. This would take some time.

***

_(some time later)_

"Can I take it you encountered the sorceress?" Gaius asked.

A few moments later, he noticed that the bowl was now at the far right-hand side of the re-righted table. That meant 'yes'. With a slight narrowing of the eyebrows, he also noticed the table was becoming rather dented with the forcefulness of Uther's responses.

"I'm sorry about this, but it's all I can think of at the moment. If you have a better suggestion, your highness?"

The bowl appeared on the left. Gaius returned it to the centre again.

"Do you remember any spells or incantations that she used?"

Left.

Gaius realised that even if he had, Uther would not be able to tell him with a simple yes or no.

"You are aware of the current situation in Camelot?"

Right.

"And do you approve of Sir Caradoc's leadership?"

The bowl clattered to the floor on the left-hand side of the table.

"I see. I have to agree, but unfortunately the man is incapable of listening to reason. He believes he is acting as you would."

Uther was appalled by this suggestion. He was firm, that was true, but he had to be. Yes, many of his decisions often seemed cold-hearted, and maybe they were, but they had been made with the best interests of the kingdom at the forefront of his mind. Mistakes had been made, he was human after all, but just because he couldn't admit to them, that didn't mean he had to live with every single one he made. Occasionally, his judgement became clouded by emotions, he accepted that. He knew that was his weakness and it was the very same weakness he wanted his son to overcome, so he could become a better king than he could ever be. Still, Uther didn't believe himself to be a cruel man. He ruled because it was his duty. After only one day it was clear Caradoc ruled for the power it gave him. He didn't care what happened to the kingdom, only that he was in control.

"I am not a heartless man!" Uther protested. "I would never behave like this."

"We both know that's not the case." Gaius was bending the truth slightly there. "But Caradoc will not back down whilst as he is of the belief that you are long gone and I'm afraid I may have drawn attention to the possibility of your death when you disappeared."

"I'm aware of that." said Uther.

"Plus, I don't think he believes Prince Arthur will return." Gaius knew that the king would be worried about the fate of his son. Should he tell Uther what he knew? Mind you, if the king should question, how he was so certain of this, he had a ready-made excuse for not answering. He wouldn't even know the king had said anything. "Sire, he is alive. Of that I am certain."

"I know," Uther said simply. He knew in his heart his son was alright, for the moment, at least.

"If there was a way to let Caradoc know that you were here, in whatever form, I believe he may yield, but there is no way he would listen. However, your actions in the castle don't go completely unnoticed, even if people do not understand what they mean."

"What are you suggesting, Gaius?" Uther frowned. Of course Gaius couldn't hear him, but the physician continued to think out loud.

"Maybe it's about time you made your objections known," Gaius said.

"How can I do that if nobody can see me? They think I'm dead, not that you would know."

Gaius raised his eyebrows. He was facing the wrong direction again, but Uther began to get the message.

"I don't believe this. You're not serious?!" He paused as if waiting for Gaius to confirm his plan, but of course he hadn't heard his objections. "You expect me to _haunt_ him, like some foul ghost. NO!" Uther picked up the wooden bowl from the floor and it landed with a thud on the left-hand sided of the table.

"I don't see many options. I was merely offering a suggestion. If you are content to watch Caradoc order your men and sit in your throne, I cannot change your mind. You are king after all. It is your choice."

If Uther had a choice he would never accept these obvious attempts at manipulation, even from Gaius, but Uther was choiceless.

"Would you have me wear a sheet on my head, clanking chains perhaps?" He said sourly.

"I'm not asking you to start howling in the corridors or clanking chains, but maybe if you focussed your current efforts in accentuating certain rumours." Gaius said. "If I may recommend starting in the kitchens, Sire."

"The kitchens?! Why would I want to go to the kitchens. There's no-one significant there, only servants. I thought this was about Caradoc?"

"After all gossip doesn't start readily with knights," Gaius continued.

There was a knock on Gaius's door. Gaius walked over to answer it. He noticed that all the furniture was still standing so unless Uther had already left, he was at least considering his proposal. As Gaius opened the door, Gwen was bamboozled by the reveal of an otherwise empty room.

"Didn't I hear you talking to someone?" she asked curiously.

"Ah, Gwen, are you working in the kitchen's today?" said Gaius.

"Yes, they're very busy down there, what with all the people here. Why do you ask?"

Gaius turned round to the 'empty' room before looking back at the puzzled servant.

"I wonder if you could do us a favour?"

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**Next chapter, when it eventually gets written, will be back with Arthur and Merlin and continue where chapter 16 left off.**


	18. Leaping to the Wrong Conclusions

**By the way, I've noticed that I accidentally replaced chapter 13 with a duplicate chapter 7 at some point. Mega apologies to anyone I've completely messed the story up for. I honestly don't know how I managed it or long it's been like that -- hopefully not long as no-one's said anything but if anybody actually did encounter a second chapter 7 and continued anyway then you've missed chapter 13 so you should probably go back and read that.**

**Anyway, thank you very much to all my loyal reviewers and everyone else who's reading. Sorry for the _humongous_ delay but I am in my final term at uni doing my exams, and it's manic. Plus, I'm struggling a bit on this section of the story and I'm still not completely happy with how this chapter turned out.**

**Enjoy! :D**

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**Chapter 18 – Leaping to the Wrong Conclusions**

Arthur helped support Merlin as together they trudged up the steep muddy slope back to the causeway. The bog clung relentlessly to their feet making the climb difficult and tiring, but eventually they made it to the path. Once they had reached the firmer ground, Merlin was already much steadier on his feet although he looked exhausted. His joy at breathing again was short lived; the climb had clearly been a massive effort in his weakened state, though thankfully he seemed to be recovering quickly.

Though Arthur was delighted that Merlin wasn't dead, he recalled everything that he could remember after thinking he had lost him and time-wise, things just did not add up. It begged the obvious question...

"Not that I'm complaining, Merlin, but how are you even alive?"

"How long was I under?" Merlin asked.

"I'm not sure." Arthur looked at the sun's progress which told him it was now roughly approaching midday. "More than long enough. I thought you'd drowned."

"It's complicated."

"I'm listening," Arthur said. Then he did. He was slightly astounded as Merlin related the entire story – or a close, magic-less approximation – to him. His appraisal of Merlin shot up a few points; considering all he'd just been through, he appeared to be taking it all in his stride

"Where were you anyway?" asked Merlin curiously.

"Busy," Arthur said simply.

"Busy?"

"Unconscious," he admitted reluctantly.

"Well that's _great_! I'm stuck at the bottom of a swamp unable to even breathe and being tormented by a ghostly brat from hell – and His Royal Pratness, hero of Camelot, is _sleeping_," joked Merlin.

"I was knocked out!" Arthur protested, missing Merlin's lack of seriousness.

"By whom?"

"Does it matter?"

"Go on, tell me."

"Itwasmyhorse," mumbled Arthur under his breath.

"Pardon?"

"MY HORSE, MERLIN!" Merlin laughed.

"It's always the horse's fault with you, isn't it?" Merlin said .

"Apparently so, yes," replied one thoroughly irritated Arthur. Merlin noticed as he felt his head. His amused expression changed to one of concern.

"Your head, is it okay?"

"I'll have a pretty spectacular bump for a while but I'll be fine."

"As if you weren't big-headed enough already. Let me see." Merlin inspected Arthur's head, but it was difficult through the mud that was plastered in the prince's hair from where he'd been lying flat in the ooze. There didn't appear to be any obvious wound, however.

"I don't think it's bad, but you should probably get cleaned up just in case. You're filthy."

Merlin regarded Arthur who flicked him away, fed up with being examined; the state of his armour was appalling. Merlin screwed his nose at the thought of all that work when they returned. Arthur spotted his expression and grinned enthusiastically at him, reading his mind. Merlin's head drooped.

"You're not exactly pristine yourself," Arthur replied. It was only immediately afterwards that he fully appreciated the state that Merlin was in. His clothes were in tatters and the lesions covering Merlin's body from where the weed had pierced him did not bleed but looked painful. "Are _you_ alright?"

"Sore," Merlin admitted. "But I'll live."

"I'm glad," said Arthur sincerely.

Arthur took some small humour in the fact that despite everything else, Merlin's scarf, the red one, was still intact and fastened resiliently round Merlin's neck as usual, where it belonged. He smiled to himself at that little detail.

"Erm, Arthur," Merlin said, looking up.

"What?"

"What exactly happened to the horses?" For the first time they both noticed that their transportation, along with most of their belongings, was absent.

"Ah." Arthur looked around at their lifeless surroundings. Scanning the body-strewn sludge he saw several dead horses belonging to hapless travellers but he couldn't determine if any of them were their own or if theirs had simply bolted. It would take ages to find out. "It appears that we're going to have to walk."

"Can we still get there within the deadline? How far is there left to go?"

"She gave me three days. On foot, by my reckoning, we can still easily get there tomorrow. For now I think we should head to that tower over there." Arthur nodded ahead. "You could use some rest."

"No, I can keep moving," said Merlin bravely, not wanting to delay when Camelot was a stake. "I've rested enough."

"Mer-lin, being restrained at the bottom of a swamp does not constitute rest. I insist. You can gather your strength first and then we'll continue. I don't want you holding me back later."

Although Merlin was fine – _ouch!_ – well mostly fine, he reluctantly walked with Arthur to the ruins of the tower which stood tall over the now drained marshland. Whilst the uppermost levels were crumbling and some parts were open to the sky, as they entered they saw the lower floors were still more or less intact.

They entered a large, dark room containing sparse amounts of long-abandoned furniture, their footsteps echoing loudly in the virtually empty space. Arthur righted a rather elaborate wooden chair and brushed the thick layer of dust off the seat with his hand. Rather disgruntled by the grey clumps of filth that had stuck to his palm, he wiped his hand clean on the arm of Merlin's ripped jacket before motioning his objecting servant to sit.

"I'm going to have a look around?" Arthur said.

"Oh, well I'll come with you," said Merlin, standing up again.

"No, you stay here."

"Why?"

"I'm ordering you to rest."

Arthur did not want to worry Merlin with his reasons behind wanting to investigate the tower more thoroughly, but there was a niggling thought at the back of his mind that concerned him deeply. The swamp had not just evaporated by itself and it did not fit that the girl, who's intentions were clearly malicious, would have caused such a thing. That left one explanation. Magic. That in turn meant someone else was here, or had been recently and Arthur was determined to get to the bottom of it, starting with the top of the tower.

As he set off to find the stairs, Merlin was determined to follow him anyway.

"Sit!" Arthur ordered firmly. Merlin flung his arms out in silent protest, but sank down in the seat nonetheless.

"Staaay!" said Arthur, eyeing Merlin and pointing a finger. Merlin reluctantly stayed put.

Arthur turned away and Merlin let his tongue loll, panting. However, when Arthur whirled back round to face him, Merlin had innocently resumed his usual expression. Arthur was sure there was something wrong with that boy sometimes.

Leaving the room and Merlin behind him, he found the tower's winding staircase and made his way to the roof. He wasn't sure what he would find or how he would feel about it. How _did_ he feel about magic being used like this? Merlin would be dead if it wasn't for whoever had drained the swamp, or at least he would still be stuck in the clutches of that ghostly child. He was pleased, wasn't he? He certainly didn't want Merlin dead, but the nature of his rescue troubled him greatly. Who had done this and why?

As he trod the stone steps he spotted a set of footprints preceding him. The size and shape of the mud pattern left on the stairs – still not completely dried out – suggested that the shoes had belonged to a woman, _or rather a sorceress,_ Arthur thought.

_The_ sorceress? Arthur did not believe that this all could be sheer coincidence, that some unrelated person who possessed magic had just happened upon them in this remote location by chance. No. It was clearly the same sorceress or an accomplice, but how did all this fit with the attack on Camelot? No concern was shown then for the innocent civilians of the town, so why Merlin?

Yes, that was the main question in Arthur's mind. What was it about Merlin? Why did he stand out in all of this? Firstly someone had faked his death – albeit badly. Then, Merlin had seemed to be the only person in Camelot not affected by the pain the illusions had caused, despite getting stabbed through the neck with a piece of wood; it had all seemed very real to Arthur. When he thought about things further, Merlin had also been the first person to see the illusions for what they actually were. Now this. His head hurt as he tried unsuccessfully to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Upon reaching the roof, taking all due care not to plunge to his death from the crumbling parapet, he saw a few more scattered footprints but little else. Whoever had been there was now long gone. After completing a thorough search of the rest of the tower's rooms and finding nothing, he returned to Merlin. Upon seeing him, his brain started swimming again. Merlin, he was a servant – what could he have to do with anything?

_First things first_, thought Arthur, _I'll just have to come straight out and ask him if he knows why the swamp was drained. Maybe there's something he forgot to tell me. Maybe I'm just overreacting and there's a simple explanation – well, as simple as anything could be around here_. _The footprints could just be an innocent traveller._

Arthur posed the question as to how the water disappeared and Merlin responded by saying he had no idea. As Arthur related his theory that they were being followed – "From ahead of us?" – "If they know where we're headed, why not?" – he saw a subtle change in Merlin's body language as he broached the subject of magic. He had become more tense all of a sudden. It was barely noticeable but this wasn't the first time it had happened and Arthur wasn't standing for it any longer.

"What is it with you?"Arthur complained. "Every time I mention magic you come over all... odd_, _well odd_-er_. It's incredibly annoying and don't think I haven't noticed."

"I don't know what you mean," said Merlin, but Arthur wasn't having any of it.

"You can cut that out for a start." Immediately regretting his abruptness, he sighed. "Have I said something to upset you?" he asked, then his forehead creased slightly as something ve-ry slowly began to dawn on him. "Oh... I know what this is about." He scratched the bridge of his nose self-consciously. "It's obvious."

"It is?"

"I've been stupid, haven't I? Well _moderately_ stupid," he corrected himself.

"No more than usual," said Merlin automatically, even though he was very confused. His brain finally caught up with his mouth. "Erm, stupid how?"

"All this time... why didn't you tell me?" Arthur asked, ignoring his comment.

"Tell you... what... exactly?"

"That I was bothering you, given your own familiarity with magic." Alarm bells suddenly clanged in Merlin's head.

"My own– ?" Surely Arthur couldn't _know_. What else could 'familiarity' possibly mean? Merlin had certainly had plenty of run ins with other people's magic as well as his own, but on reflection most of that had happened behind Arthur's back, whilst he was too preoccupied with saving the world – or being dead to it – to notice. There wasn't the slightest hint that he had even the vaguest of vague inklings, so how did this spring up from _nowhere_? Either Arthur was smarter than he looked, which seemed unlikely; he meant something else, whatever that was; or the knock to his head was affecting him more than Merlin had realised. Maybe he was not thinking straight himself and had missed something obvious; his ordeal had thrown him off a tad.

"I suppose I _have_ known since we got back from Ealdor, and I should have put two and two together only I just didn't think," Arthur continued.

_Ealdor?! _Merlin's eyes couldn't help but widen at this revelation._ What? But How? Surely not?_

"You knew?" The words slipped out of Merlin's mouth before he had a chance to stop himself. He bit his tongue before he said anything else stupid. All this time. All this time he'd hidden and Arthur _knew?_

"Of course I knew Merlin." Arthur frowned at his befuddled manservant. "What's wrong with you?"

"I just thought..." said Merlin, completely stunned.

"You thought I'd have forgotten about the whole thing?"

"Well actually now that you ment– "

"I've warned you countless times about _thinking, _Mer-lin_. _I'd expect you to give me a little bit more credit than that_._"

"I thought it might have at least crossed your mind to say something."

"It never occurred to me until today," said Arthur honestly. Merlin couldn't believe how he could be so calm about this.

"_Never occurred_?!" Merlin's astonished voice was pitched significantly higher than normal. In fact, Arthur raised a hand to his ear.

"Besides, which it's not something I can really talk about in public, is it?" Arthur said.

"I guess not."

"Look, I know Will was your friend, but– " Merlin's whirling mind stalled.

"Will?" he asked in puzzlement.

"Yes... Will." Merlin stared blankly. "Your friend, Will. William of Ealdor. " Arthur was starting to look increasingly fed up with Merlin's slowness; his efforts to be tactful were now failing miserably. "William _the sorcerer_," he tried. "You were close weren't you?"

"Oh yes, Will," Merlin exclaimed quickly once his mind had caught up with Arthur's – or rather reversed to intercept it. 'Will the sorcerer' – now he remembered. Of course Arthur meant his friendship with Will, what else could he have meant? He wasn't sure if he was relieved or mildly disappointed by that. Still, he was pleasantly surprised this had occurred to Arthur even if it was months late and he only had an erroneous grasp of the facts.

Merlin racked his brains – what had he actually said just now? Nothing too incriminating he didn't think, but he'd been close. Disturbingly close.

Arthur shook his head at how slow Merlin was on the uptake . He tried to remind himself that Merlin still wasn't completely well, and that spending an impossible length of time underwater with a psychopathic dead girl whilst being sustained only by a killer plant must surely addle the brains. It was easier than having to re-write his mentally pre-defined boundaries regarding Merlin's idiocy at any rate.

"Who else did you think I meant?" Arthur asked

"Nobody," said Merlin innocently.

"There's no-one I need to know about is there?" Arthur questioned him.

"No." Merlin's 'addled' brain smiled self-assuredly to itself. _I can't think of anyone. _

"No, I didn't think so," said Arthur. "Like I said, I appreciate the fact that you and Will were close, and it must be hard to have to listen to my father constantly condemning those who practice magic."

"And you."

"And on occasion me too, yes. I may not have known anyone like you have, but I've encountered my fair share of magic, most of which has been trying kill me and that, I would say, builds up a pretty strong case against it. Magic isn't right, it isn't normal and it invariably corrupts people. I would be lying if I said I hadn't occasionally questioned my father's view on magic as I'm sure you know, but I have yet to meet one practising sorcerer I could trust."

"Maybe you just haven't met the right one. Is it possible that sorcerers are just people too? Maybe the things that corrupt them are the same as the things that corrupt ordinary people, anger and hate for example, the consequences are just far worse when they act. There are evil people who don't have magic, couldn't the opposite be true as well?"

"That's very profound Merlin, for you. But people make choices, that is what determines their character. Why would any _good_ person, smart enough to learn magic, chose to do so knowing the terrible damage it can cause?"

"Maybe they think they can use it to help people."

"It's irresponsible. Will saved my life, and someone saved your life for whatever reason, and I'm grateful for that, I truly am, but I cannot trust magic knowing what it is capable of – it is simply wrong. I made a mistake with Morgause and I think you know the outcome of that. Perhaps one day something might change my mind, but I don't think that day will come soon. Magic is dangerous, I cannot afford to doubt that again."

"I understand," Merlin said. He seemed slightly disappointed. Arthur hadn't realised he felt so strongly. Come to think of it, he had never asked what his servant thought, but in the end what did that matter? Magic was dangerous, he may have seen a few exceptions but at it's very core magic was evil. He only had to think of Camelot and the terror that magic had unleashed there to know that to be true. What good could come from a power that could cause all that? No good at all was the answer – only death and fear and grief and pain. But if that were so, if the issue was so clear cut, then why was it that whenever he looked at Merlin, he couldn't help but keep on doubting?

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**I know, long wait and it doesn't move things very far, but I wanted to show Arthur thinking for once. His thoughts are a little muddled but it's something at least. In case there is any confusion there was someone on the tower (very briefly mentioned in Ch15) but of course they didn't drain the swamp so Arthur was both wrong and right but for the wrong reasons (if that makes sense).**

**The next Camelot chapter is mostly written, but I haven't decided if that will be the next chapter yet. If it is you will probably get it soon, if not then you'll have to wait longer. I have been very busy with final exams since the end of April and will be until June so updates will be infrequent until then. Biochemistry is EVIL but after that I'm freeeee!**

**Apologies for the A/N overload with this update and thanks for reading!**


	19. Making a Stand

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Ridiculously long author's note (feel free to skip -- there's a chapter down there somewhere)

Oh dear, the Plot Bunny of Caerbannog struck again during the exam period and in the absence of any Holy Hand-Grenades I definitely foresee a sequel. Bugger! There's still loads to write for this yet, though to be fair I have had this idea in the back of my mind since I started, but only now has it has finally started to develop itself. Expect foreshadowing soon.

Anyway, enough about that – I'm finally back. Best not to mention the exams but I'm looking forward to getting down to writing again. Well technically they're not over yet but I've written a little more anyway and I've met up with 'some I prepared earlier' so I should be able to give you reasonable updates until I finish exams properly. Hopefully my readers haven't all abandoned me and assuming somebody is still reading, thank you kindly for putting up with the wait. Sorry!

After much rearranging of ideas this chapter is not Merlin and Arthur despite what I said but that's only so I can focus on them more in the next few chapters without cutting back to Camelot during the important bits or in the middle of cliff-hangers. It's also mostly OCs again, I'm afraid (the servants are only in this chapter though). The advantage of this is that I can get away with behaviour that would be uncharacteristic of the real characters. Yup the knight's code _has _flown out of the window and migrated to warmer climes faster than an unladen swallow by the end of this chapter. *End of Monty Python references*

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Thanks as always to everyone who reviewed. I think that was my biggest response so far. You are all amazing!

**emerald.97** - Thank you so much for your continued feedback. I love reading your comments and they really do encourage me**********.**

**Orion1432** - Wow! Well done on reading all 18 chapters. So pleased you thought it was amazing and found my ghost girl creepy. Sorry for not updating for so long but I hope you'll continue to read and enjoy the rest of this story just as much.

**Her** - Thanks for your review of chapter 2. Glad you liked my allusion to the round table -- I couldn't resist slipping it in unsubtly. I hope you managed to read the rest of this story and that you enjoyed it.

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Hopefully I replied to everyone who left signed reviews and if I missed anybody then thank you now.

I hope you continue to enjoy the rest of the story and to make up for the long wait the next chapter will be posted very soon.

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**Chapter 19**

The castle kitchens were buzzing with activity. The sizzling meat on the roaring fire filled the air with a succulent aroma and around a large rectangular table in the centre of the room, vegetables were being hurriedly chopped and sliced in a frantic attempt to get dinner prepared on time. The shelves on each wall were packed with comestibles and cookware and in one corner a pair of women, one young, pale and slender, the other more mature and wearing a no nonsense down-to-earth expression, were scrubbing at a pile of filthy plates that had been left out far too long.

"Has anybody seen the pork?" a cry drifted out across the room. "Come on. A large joint of meat doesn't just vanish!" The rest of the kitchen just shrugged and shook their heads.

"That's the fourth thing that's gone missing today. I'm telling you it's not natural," Anna, the young woman, said.

"Have you looked out of a window lately," replied Noreen. "There's nothing natural around here anymore. Misplaced food should be the least of your problems."

"Well I still reckon it's ghosts." Noreen tutted loudly.

"With you everything is ghosts," said Noreen, splashing a plate down roughly into the dirty water. "You drop the prince's dinner, it's ghosts, mice nibble the vegetables, it's ghosts."

"It could be King Uther come back for revenge," Anna explained, as she wiped away the wet droplets that had spattered her face.

"Revenge against what?" Noreen scoffed. "Clumsy kitchen maids? Carrots?"

"It's possible."

"You're an idiot." Noreen shook her head. "If King Uther is in this kitchen, I'll personally eat this dishcloth."

"CRASH!" A pile of plates toppled to the floor. The older of the two followed with her eyes as the final plate rotated, slower and slower on the stone before final spinning to a halt with a clatter. She looked to her companion, set on blaming the girls ineptitude for simple tasks. But Anna was in a right state.

"What was that!" said Anna, flustering. Noreen was staring at her accusingly. "It wasn't me, I swear. I told you, I told you. It's the king's ghost."

"Pull yourself together girl."

"Oh my, the king's here. Don't panic! Don't panic!" She said, clutching at Noreen's dress.

Noreen sighed, prying Anna's fingers from her clothing. "Have you been talking to Old Meg again. I've warned you about her before. You know she's several knights short of a tournament. She sold you a rub to prevent, what was it again, the 'multi-coloured pimple plague'? It turned out to be badger droppings."

"I haven't caught it yet though, have I?" Anna replied, matter-of-factly. Noreen curled up her nose.

"Neither has anyone else. She made it up!"

"Well anyway, I haven't spoken to her," said Anna defensively.

"Then who?"

"Just Gwen."

"Gwen? Gwen thinks there's ghosts? The Lady Morgana's ex-maid Gwen? _Gwen?_"

"Well she didn't say ghosts _exactly_, but there's been peculiar goings on all over the castle that nobody can explain."

Right on cue, another young serving girl cautiously entered the room. Satisfied that there was no paranormal activity occurring at that moment, she pushed the door firmly shut behind her.

"You're right," she said. "The king's bedchambers have been disturbed, other areas of the castle are completely wrecked, Eve says she saw Gaius talking to someone who wasn't there and Alan swears that Sir Caradoc's lunch just vanished of the plate as he was delivering it."

"See? I knew it!" Anna shouted. Noreen shot an incredulous look in her direction.

"Who else have you told about this?" she asked.

"Just you and Enid," Anna answered.

"You are unbelievable sometimes! Well see it stays that way, otherwise we'll look like complete fools."

"And Glenn, and Mark, Oh and then there's Ailie…" remembered Anna.

"Alright, alright, but don't tell anyone else."

"…and Iain and Bree and Corliss…"

_Sigh_

"…and Masie…"

"Just shut up."

x x x

Gwen did not know why she'd decided to go along with this. Firstly the notion that there was an invisible Uther roaming the corridors of Camelot was hard to believe, and secondly this was _Uther_. Assuming the king even went along with this plan, which seemed highly unlikely, why should she help him? The man was cruel and unfeeling and what is more he had had her father killed. Dead or not, Uther was gone and she felt no compulsion to change that.

Gwen was startled as she heard a door bang. Oh, it was was nothing, just an ordinary, visible person exiting a room. Maybe there were drawbacks to Uther being invisible. She had been on edge ever since she found out, jumping at every thud or clang or rattle where the source was not immediately apparent. It was very unsettling knowing that there was someone in the castle that she couldn't see, someone who could be watching her... right now.

_Oh, pull yourself together Guinevere,_ she thought, _he's the king and you're a nobody. That hasn't changed. You're not worth a first glance to him_. _Besides, it's not as if you're doing anything wrong._

Gwen pondered. What exactly would happen if Uther stayed lost forever? After all, Caradoc was just as bad, maybe even worse. Surely Arthur would return. He had to. Yes, Arthur would return and when he did he would make a far better king than his father.

_His father_.

Arthur cared for Uther deeply, how could he not, he was family after all. And Gwen cared for Arthur. Did she really want him to have to go through the pain of losing a parent? Uther wasn't really lost, not like her own father, but what difference did that make if the only way he could communicate was through violent outbursts. If she were feeling cynical she might have wondered if anyone would actually notice the difference, but that was not her nature. Uther at least cared for his son and it wasn't right that he should be cut off from his last remaining shred of humanity like this.

She knew with Uther 'gone' that Arthur would be hurt. After all, what must that feel like having someone you love right beside you, both knowing the other is there but just outside of your reach? An uncrossable, unbreakable barrier between you both. Each of you somewhere unreachable. She thought she knew exactly what that felt like but it wasn't the same thing at all.

She didn't know what she could do, but at heart she was a good person. She wouldn't let her personal feelings stand in the way of what was right. It was a little task, but if she, a simple maid, whose duty it was to serve could do this one small thing to benefit Camelot then it was her job to see it done. She prided herself in doing her job well. Besides, Gaius had asked her to do it and in him she trusted. She could do this small thing for him and she could do it for Arthur.

That is why she had agreed to start the rumour mill turning in the end. She had felt bad for deceiving her friends, although it wasn't really a deception. Uther _was_ around after all and she definitely hadn't mentioned anything about spirits or ghosts. That was all in their imagination. In fact she had been very careful to avoid lying, she had merely omitted certain truths in order to maximise potential gossip. Anna's superstitious nature was inadvertantly a blessing in getting the intended message across.

Had it worked though? Only time would tell.

x x x

Late that evening, Hadwyn followed Caradoc downstairs to the kitchens. They were investigating numerous reports of unrest and the servants muttered as they entered. They both felt that they were wasting time, Caradoc especially. A ghost in the kitchen, and Uther's nonetheless? Really, this was too much. What should he be expected to find next? Leprechauns in the larder? Goblins in the guardroom?

"Honestly, a few fallen pots and pans and everyone goes to pieces." Caradoc helped himself to a chicken leg from the large table in the centre of the room and started munching loudly. "Is there something you want to say," Caradoc asked Anna with food in his open mouth. She shook her head nervously. "Go on, get out of here, all of you," Caradoc shouted.

The servants scurried away leaving Caradoc and Hadwyn alone in the room. Caradoc began a spurious investigation of the room, looking behind piles of stacked plates, inside bottles and beneath small jars for nothing in particular. He uncovered a pot, which was bubbling on the stove, and tasted the contents with his finger before spitting it back out.

"Sack the cook," Caradoc ordered.

"You're going too far," said Hadwyn tensely.

"Excuse me!" Caradoc exclaimed, slamming the lid back down with a crash.

"You're going too far," Hadwyn repeated coldly. "It's been one day and you're behaving like a tyrant."

"Maybe I am," Caradoc sneered, moving round the table towards him. "But what are _you_ going to do about it?" He stared at Hadwyn, his will unshakable. There came the silence he expected as Hadwyn turned away from him, most unassertive as usual. Caradoc grinned in contentment.

Hadwyn stood with his back to him. He was sick of this. Just because he didn't seek out confrontation, that did not mean he couldn't fight as bravely as anyone else. He was fed up of been pushed around by someone of equal status to himself. He was fed up of having his courage and loyalties questioned. Well, he would show him now. Someone had to act and it might as well be him. He had picked up a kitchen knife from the table and was tossing it in his hand. His tormentor was still smiling.

"THIS!" he yelled as the blade hurtled across the room. Caradoc froze aghast as the knife sped through the air towards him. He leant back as it whooshed above his head and ripped into a sack on a shelf above him, sending a cascade of apples thudding onto him and rolling across the floor. That wasn't very knightly.

Hadwyn unsheathed his sword. Caradoc blinked as the last of the fruit bounced of his skull. Recovering from the shock of Hadwyn's abrupt change in character, he drew his own sword. They each sized up their opponent. They already knew each other. Hadwyn was younger, faster and restrained, but Caradoc had size and strength on his side and even though he did tend to let anger get the better of him in battle, it took a lot to bring the man down.

Hadwyn started to get the feeling he'd made a big mistake as Caradoc made the first move, but he was only teasing at this stage. A half-hearted strike towards his left side was easily parried, as was a high attack to his shoulder. Hadwyn wasn't in the mood for playing games. He launched a violent assault on Caradoc, determined to get a swift upper hand. The grating and ringing of steel drowned out any other noises. He managed to slice Caradoc's left arm, but it wasn't too deep. Caradoc didn't seem impeded much as he swiped forward, forcing Hadwyn to duck to avoid the blow. They continued to fight, Hadwyn watching his gigantic enemy closely, searching for any weaknesses. He tried to jab him as he recovered from a particularly over-exuberant attack but his sword was knocked aside forcefully at the last moment.

"I was wrong about you," Caradoc spat between their crossed swords. "You're not just a pathetic runt, you're annoying too." Caradoc broke away with a shove. "If you give up now, I may be lenient."

"Not this time," Hadwyn said, twirling his sword challengingly in an Arthuresque manner.

Caradoc directed another, particularly vicious strike towards Hadwyn. He dodged easily. Stepping back, he misplaced his foot which rolled on the spilled fruit. His legs flew forward from under him and he tumbled to the floor, sword skidding from his grasp and under the table beside him. Looking up in fright, he saw Caradoc sneering as his weapon came plummeting down towards him. Without hesitation, he rolled underneath the table, to avoid the blow. Back against the cold stone flags, panting, Hadwyn heard Caradoc's roar. Hadwyn stretched sideways to retrieve his sword, but before his hand could touch the hilt, he was forced to swiftly withdraw, only narrowly avoiding crushed fingers as the table overturned.

Now Hadwyn was unarmed and escape routes were blocked. He saw Caradoc looming over him, determined to finish him off. In an act of desperation, he lashed out, boots impacting Caradoc's shins hard. Caradoc stumbled, his aim lost and Hadwyn heard the satisfying _'THUNK!' _of metal into wood. The table creaked and groaned beside him as Caradoc tugged in frustration at his embedded sword, which wouldn't budge. Hadwyn pushed himself upright again in the lull. He couldn't afford to let Caradoc recover his weapon so gathering up all his strength he shouldered the great brute away. His face became contorted with effort.

Caradoc was pushed a mere two steps at most. He glowered at the nerve of this little pipsqueak before landing a punch to Hadwyn's face. His fist collided with his opponents jaw with a _crunch_ and he watched as Hadwyn's head reeled back. When it came to a fist fight he clearly had the advantage. Spitting up blood, Hadwyn countered with a series of ineffectual blows of his own. Then Caradoc returned in kind. Hadwyn managed to dodge him for the most part, but a further hit pounded him directly and broke his nose. As he was staggering, Caradoc grabbed him and, whirling around sharply, had him pinned against the shelves on the back wall with a loud crash and a clattering of metal plates.

Before Hadwyn knew what was happening he could feel the shelves digging into his spine as he dangled, choking. There was a warm trickle from his nose and a metallic taste in his mouth. Caradoc leered at him. Hadwyn's eyes shifted to his left, then to his right, trying to find some way out. Hope flashed behind them as he spotted a candlestick next to him and he strained his right arm in a vain attempt to grab it. At the same time he was struggling against his attacker. His hand enclosed around nothing, then nothing again, before finally he had a firm hold around the heavy, wrought metal pole. It was difficult, particularly when grabbed from this awkward angle, but Hadwyn managed to drag the candlestick forward and tilt it towards the two of them. Caradoc yelped as the lit candles burnt him and the flames singed the hairs on his wrist. Automatically his grip on Hadwyn was released and Hadwyn and the candlestick fell to the floor.

The candles themselves went out, but not before a piece of discarded sacking had caught alight. As Hadwyn crawled away gasping, he flung the half-blazing sack backwards at Caradoc's head. Caradoc quickly threw it off himself and stamped out the flames, by which time Hadwyn had armed himself with a broom handle. His face was throbbing, but it was too late to back down now. If he did he would surely lose his life.

Caradoc growled and snatched a broom of his own from beside the wall. There followed a furious clacking of wood on wood as both men tried to land a blow whilst keeping their footing on the wreckage-strewn floor. The limited space was not ideal. Caradoc attacked with a series of jabs and thrusts. Hadwyn deflected but was aware that Caradoc was manoeuvring him back towards the overturned table where he would be effectively cornered. Hadwyn launched a counter attack and Caradoc was driven a step backwards. The huge man grimaced as Hadwyn slipped a blow past his defence, landing a successful hit to his injured arm. A second to the chest soon followed, as Caradoc let his staff drop slightly.

Eyes aflame, Caradoc knocked back Hadwyn's broom, _CLACK, _blocked a third hit, _CLACK, _and attempted an overhead strike. Hadwyn dodged beneath Caradoc's arm, switching positions. He belted him round the stomach as he passed. Caradoc grunted, crouching over in pain and was almost brought to his knees by powerful knock to the back of the legs. As he fell forward, the broom flew out from his hands, which caught hold of the table, keeping him on his feet at least.

Behind the table's edge the silvery glint of steel met his eye. He turned and an even sharper glint in his eye met Hadwyn. He vaulted awkwardly over the table, receiving a painful crack on the hand as he did, then his opponent followed nimbly. Hadwyn lunged at him, and Caradoc deliberately rode the force of the blow to the floor.

Victorious, Hadwyn leant forward straddling him. His mangled face was struggling to contain his rage and he was brandishing his stick menacingly above the fallen knight's head.

"Do you surrender?" Hadwyn shouted. Caradoc simply smiled back up at him. Hadwyn scowled more, positively fuming. "Do you yield? Do you?"

His fell silent as he felt the sharp poke of metal against his stomach. His face dropped as he saw the reason for Caradoc's amusement. Caradoc was holding Hadwyn's sword.

"Do _you_?" Sir Caradoc asked. Hadwyn's wooden pole clattered to the floor as his sword jabbed him harder. He backed away with widened eyes, as Caradoc rose up, keeping weapon contact at all times. Once he was on his feet, Caradoc took hold of him and with his sword to his neck, escorted him out of the kitchens and down the corridor.

As they approached the palace entrance, Hadwyn heard the rapid movement of approaching feet. _Typical_, _now everyone shows up. _The other knights rounded the corner and stopped at the sight of Caradoc holding Hadwyn at sword point. Even just halting in the corridor, they were subconsciously stood in two factions, those that backed Caradoc (or were too afraid of him to do otherwise) and those who were opposed, with a few loitering between. Both sides were fairly evenly matched.

"Chain him up!" Caradoc commanded. The shocked knights hesitated. "Unless you'd rather me kill him here." There was a troubled murmuring among the assembled soldiers.

A pair stepped forward to escort Hadwyn to the dungeons. Hadwyn maintained a defiant silence as he was led in the direction of the cells.

"Oh, no no," Caradoc said. "Not that way."

"Sorry?"

"I want to set an example, in case any of you should be getting ideas," Caradoc bellowed to everyone. "He will be chained outside."

"Outside? But the illusions, the wyverns. That's barbaric," the knights mumbled softly amongst themselves.

"You can't!" One of the knight's yelled out. He was one of Caradoc's supporters, or had been. Caradoc shot him a cautionary glare and he was silenced.

Suddenly, Caradoc got an uneasy shiver as he felt someone at his back. He whipped his head back to look and saw no-one. But there were NO ghosts in Camelot, that would be preposterous.

"Get on with it!" he shouted tetchily.

Everyone watched as the condemned man was marched between them, out through the main door and into the dim square. The prisoner and his escort were silhouetted black in the doorway against the red glow of the setting sun. It would be a nice day tomorrow. Hadwyn turned sadly to face the castle one more time, knowing he had done the right thing, before the doors boomed shut behind him, echoing through the silence that was deathly still. He knew most likely this night would be his last.

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**Ok-ay, I went a little overboard with the fight scene. I can't believe it ended up about 1300 words. Hope it wasn't too confusing/boring.**

**Thanks for reading! Stand by for the next chapter very soon.**


	20. A Matter of Distrust

**Here's the next chapter as promised. I'm not happy with it but it will have to do.**

**Enjoy! :D**

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**Chapter 20 - A Matter of Distrust**

She approached the city of Camelot from above, gaining a wide bird's-eye view of the landscape. Quickly the tranquil future she was used to seeing flickered into a scorched nightmare. The earth was blackened and bare and all life had been leeched away in a far-reaching circle radiating from the castle. She knew the hand of magic when she saw it but even growing up on a centre of raw power she had never imagined magic that could decimate so much in a single frightful blow… and why did its origin seem to be in Camelot, a fortress of those who despised such arts?

Each time she wondered as if she was looking on this scene anew. It was only afterwards she would remember that she had watched this before.

As her vision zoomed in to within the castle walls, her sight became more distorted as curls of mist swirled across the flags of stone. The denseness of the fog was nothing though, compared to the oppressive feeling of magic which bore down like a lead blanket upon everything it touched. Around her bodies lay scattered, mostly soldiers but also peasants, women and children as well as the adult males – none had been spared.

From out of the grey wisps of smoke a lone figure gradually emerged, striding forward, tall and silent. The air around him seemed to glimmer with his presence and an unfelt breeze swept through raven hair but his pale features were impassive and even his flaming stare seemed vacant somehow. Clearly though he was the source of this magic. A person channelling so much energy was unheard of but the evidence was clear. He had caused this devastation.

Time flashed backwards. Now she was in a familiar cave and lying motionless on the ground was the golden-haired prince, spread-eagled and with a smoking hole in his chest. A charred circle marked the wall beside which he had fallen. A young man, the same man as before, turned around to face him, eyes wide with shock.

Mildryd raised her head, re-entering reality again with a jerk. Not again. She was accustomed to dreaming the future at night but now her visions were haunting her by day and becoming increasingly more unsettling. The image of a peaceful, tolerant Albion, united under King Arthur's rule was rapidly deteriorating and being replaced by _this_.

That was why she was here. She needed answers. Was the person she secretly hoped could thwart her and her sister's plans and help restore a decaying kingdom also capable of its destruction.

The harsh wilderness rolled out before her and a fair distance ahead she could see thick woodland, which she intended to avoid. Beyond that she observed the craggy cliffs that rose high above the former town of Heolstor. She kicked the laden horse she had 'borrowed' from the swamp, although given the fate that had befallen the other she had probably done it a favour. There was a lone area of shrubland ahead of her and she made for it, intending to conceal herself until the pair she was preceding reached her. What she would do when they did… well, she hadn't planned that far ahead yet.

x x x

"What do you mean she's gone?" Ailith, who wasn't Ailith, fumed. Now she knew that the warlock still lived she had wanted to talk to her 'sister' about her disobedience.

"I mean she's absent from here. No longer present. She is currently somewhere else," Nedra answered sardonically. She actually had no idea where Mildryd was, although she lived in her own world half the time so it didn't concern her much. What did concern her was the sudden interest in her whereabouts, but she wasn't about to show it.

"Yes thank you," said Eda dryly. Nedra was deliberately trying her patience but if she was to keep up the pretence she would have to control herself and not succumb to her fiery temper.

"I didn't realise we were prisoners," Nedra challenged. "Surely she's entitled to go for a wander. Look at us, stuck in a cave for heaven's sake."

"Would you rather go back to your old life?"

"In a heartbeat, if there was a way to bring my husband back, but I know that can never happen so I must do anything and everything to retain what precious little I have left."

"We have lost too much." Ailith agreed.

It took all of Nedra's restraint not to attack Eda where she stood for such a remark. She had lost her childhood home, her parents, her lover and thanks to Eda's treachery, her oldest sister. By contrast what had this impostor lost? It paled in comparison. Basically this was just a spiteful adolescent who had never truly grown up, albeit one with a natural talent for magic. Oh yes, she knew very well who this woman really was and what she had done. Unlike Mildryd she was not completely oblivious to the world around her. _I bet she hasn't even noticed I am with child_, she thought, although admittedly she was only just beginning to show. Nedra's powers of observation, however, were not lacking.

It was a dangerous game they were both playing, concealing what they knew, each using the other for their own ends. Eda needed the sisters for their knowledge of this source of magic and without them she would not be able to carry off sorcery of this magnitude. Nedra wanted what was best for her remaining family and if that meant taking sides with her sister's killer, so be it. When this was all over she would deal with Eda, but until then she needed Uther's reign to end for the sake of her unborn baby who did not need to suffer as she had. Arthur's death would be a bonus, surely the son would not stray far from the shadow of his father and even if he did, how long would that take. She couldn't afford to wait.

Now Arthur would come to Heolstor and his life would end in exchange for the safety of Camelot; Uther would be dealt with permanently, not just with petty taunting; then she would make sure Eda paid the full price of her actions. She owed that to the real Ailith.

x x x

Merlin and Arthur's afternoon past by smoothly. They crossed the remainder of the swamp without incident but were nonetheless relieved when the drained marshland gave way to the easternmost reaches of the grassy northern plains.

Arthur was unusually silent as he tried to wrap his brain around the big questions that were churning around up there. Was magic always evil? What was it about Merlin? And how had the clumsy fool just managed to trip up on _air_ for the fourteenth time today? The cogs of his mind grated against each other as he tried to figure these things out but it was so cluttered with things that didn't make sense and as much as it pained Arthur to admit it to himself, he really wasn't cut out for deep thinking. He felt as if all that was needed was one swift kick in the right direction to have everything tumble into place but what direction was beyond him. The answers were in there somewhere and yet completely out of his reach.

As daylight began to dwindle, Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, but having few options they set up camp for the night where they were. He searched the immediate area for signs of trouble but found nothing. After spending quite a while setting up a rather ingenious trap – he thought – so that at least tomorrow they should be able to eat, he returned to Merlin only to be very much amazed and slightly put out when he saw a pair of freshly skinned rabbits cooking over the crackling fire.

"Where on earth did they come from?" he gaped.

"I caught them. I'm afraid the smaller one is a bit burnt. I take it that'll be mine."

"You caught them?"

"Yes."

"You?"

"There's no need to sound totally shocked." But Arthur could not help but be suspicious.

"How?"

"Does it matter?" Merlin said, presenting him some meat.

"I suppose not." Arthur curled his nose up at his blackened offering and proceeded to pick off the worst bits. It would seem Merlin's flair for culinary excellence was a matter of much debate, although his skills were marginally better than his own. He began to tuck in when a thought struck him mid-mouthful. "You didn't just find it did you? It's not diseased or anything?"

"No I killed it." Arthur swallowed thankfully.

"I thought you hated hunting."

"I don't mind if there's a point to it, such as dinner," Merlin indicated the cremated flesh that could _possibly_ resemble something edible. "I just don't think it's particularly fun."

"That's because you, Merlin, couldn't catch a cold."

"Nice rabbit?" the fearless bunny-slayer asked, eyebrows raised.

"Hmmm." Arthur had to confess to himself that the evidence did contradict him somewhat. "I'll admit you seem to have had an incredible stroke of luck to run into the only two creatures dumber than you. Did they hop into the fire themselves?"

"You're welcome." Merlin said, knowing that was the closest thing to thanks he was going to get.

Once Merlin's back was turned, Arthur tossed a large chunk of meat over his shoulder. The rustle it made as it landed in the grass behind him however seemed far too heavy and much further away than it should have. Wait. There it was again. Arthur stood up sharply on full alert. This grabbed Merlin's attention.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked.

"Listen," Arthur hissed. There was the faint sound of a breaking twig.

"What is it?"

"Well it's not another improbably stupid rabbit." Arthur looked around but night was now well and truly upon then and the orange glow of the fire penetrated very little into the gloom. He couldn't see anyone, but they were there.

Slowly and cautiously they crept together towards the source of the noise, Arthur leading the way with Merlin not more than a step behind. They traced the sound into a small patch of thicket, which Arthur cursed himself for having overlooked.

A pair of black shapes graced the darkness. A pale light flared up suddenly out of the sorceresses palm as Arthur accosted her. Before she had time to murmur any more spells she was restrained on the ground with Arthur's sword at her throat.

"I've found one of our horses," Merlin called out.

"Fetch the reins," Arthur cried back. When Merlin arrived at his side, he temporarily passed control to Merlin so he could tightly bind the woman's hands using the leather straps. Satisfied that the knots held good he reclaimed his weapon. "You're a sorceress," he said, pointing it directly at her.

"Yes, I am."

"The same one who attacked Camelot?" he asked fiercely.

"I wasn't there but I helped, yes," she answered calmly.

"You helped? How many of you are there?"

"Three, myself and my two sisters." _Fantastic_, thought Arthur. If one sorcerer wasn't bad enough, now they were outnumbered.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Ten years ago Uther destroyed my home and my family, and we have been hiding ever since," Mildryd explained regretfully.

"You practiced magic," Arthur pointed out.

"We caused no-one any harm."

"What happened there was wrong." Arthur couldn't believe the words that had just slipped from his lips. He'd just admitted that and to an enemy no less. "But you are no better – the people of Camelot are innocent."

"I know."

A wave of anger came over him. She wasn't even trying to defend her position. How could she be so casual about the suffering of others like this. Did she care for no-one but herself? This was getting him nowhere so he changed tack.

"What has Merlin got to do with this?"

"What?" Merlin said from the side, puzzled. "What about me?"

"You don't know yet?" exclaimed Mildryd, flicking her gaze between the two young men. The prince had little patience for games and so ignored her.

"Surely even you can see there's something odd going on around you," Arthur snapped to Merlin. "They made a dead man look like you , somehow you knew about the illusions before they happened and you were mysteriously rescued from the swamp by magic."

"So someone almost got me killed and now they're _protecting me_?" Merlin responded. "You don't think you could be reading too much into things. I'm not exactly important."

"I was told to kill Merlin, for reasons I can't say," Mildryd announced. "I didn't."

"You very nearly did," said Merlin.

"What she's saying is that she tried to get someone else to do her dirty work for her," Arthur told him, trying to ignore the guilt niggling at the back of his thoughts, reminding that it had almost been him. The question of why anyone would want Merlin dead still troubled him, but he wasn't going to get the answers he sought. He faced Mildryd sternly. "I should kill you right now, but you may be useful if we have your sisters to contend with now as well. One false move however and it'll be your last, understand?" The witch smiled and Arthur took it as an affirmative. "Know that I trained my servant in the sword myself and he is as highly skilled and as fearsome as any knight."

"Really?" said Merlin hopefully. Arthur closed his eyes and sighed as his own attempts at illusion were shattered. It was going to be a long night.

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**Next chapter is written but it'll be about a week before I post it so as not to keep you waiting too long again, unless you persuade me otherwise, which won't take much. I lack willpower.  
**


	21. Destiny Unwravelling

**_emerald.97_ - Thanks! Glad you're still loving this; _Orion1432 _– Thanks! Glad you liked my Merlin and Arthur characterisation. That means a lot to me. I hope this next chapter doesn't disappoint; _Fantasyreader_ – Here's the next chapter for you. Hope you like it. ****Thanks for reviewing; ****_desertangel21_- Thanks! So pleased you're liking this story. I ho****pe you enjoy this chapter too.**

**Also, thank you again to everyone else who reviewed! I hope I didn't miss replying to anyone.  
**

**I've posted this a earlier than I'd intended because I lack any form of willpower, but now you'll have to wait a bit longer for the next chapter as it's not yet written. If I wake up I might do some more this afternoon but don't hold your breath. To those of you who pursuaded me to get this up quicker, you know who you are and you brought it upon yourselves. Ha! This'll teach you to be impatient!  
**

**Enjoy! :D

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**Chapter 21 – Destiny Unwravelling**

Arthur was squatted on a small stone which protruded out of the scrubby grassland. Fixed in his gaze at a sensible distance opposite – not too close but near enough so as not to be completely invisible in night's pitch – was the sorceress, Mildryd, her hands and feet bound tightly and her mouth gagged. On the floor next to Arthur lay a plain stone pendant, which had been removed from the sorceress's neck as a precaution. Who knew what tricks these sort of people had up their sleeves – or round their throats for that matter? Ambling towards them came Merlin, stretching himself more fully than one of the stray cats of the town after a particularly strenuous nap.

"Arthur," Merlin said. "You need to sleep sometime too you know."

"I'm not tired," Arthur replied, stifling a yawn.

"No, of course you're not."

"Someone's got to keep an eye on _her_."

"Well I could do that."

"Someone _competent_," he spoke so Mildryd wouldn't hear.

"I think I can handle it. She is tied up after all."

"Given she can do magic, I wouldn't count on that," Arthur whispered.

"I won't take my eyes of her, I promise. Anything remotely suspicious and I'll wake you."

Arthur considered this for a moment. It was against his better judgement but maybe he was a _little _sleepy after all. "Alright," he conceded, tugging his sword out of the ground before handing it to Merlin. "But don't let her speak and if she even _looks _as if she's about to try anything…" he said with a deliberate glance at Mildryd. "Remember, your life's worth more than hers."

He wandered off to the side. Upon reflection of the situation, he drew the additional sword that was still strapped to Merlin's recently recovered horse and placed it beside him before lying on the ground to rest – not that he really needed any.

The minutes between Merlin and Mildryd passed by in unbroken silence until Arthur's snores could be heard reverberating across the way.

"So, you helped create the illusions on Camelot?" Merlin asked softly. Mildryd nodded, "And it was you that faked my death?" Mildryd nodded again. "Then I take it you know who I am and that I don't really need _this_," Merlin said , putting the sword he was holding, rather pathetically, to one side. "I assume you're after the usual revenge on Camelot, but how is it that you know about me?" Merlin asked. Mildryd's eyes glanced downwards. She probably didn't need words to speak but she was clearly going to be obstinate. He crouched down and removed her gag, his stern look a clear warning against her trying anything.

"I'm not the only one who's heard of you ," she said. "You know that."

"Yes, but you're no Druid and you've called me Merlin, not Emrys. Tell me what you know."

"I am a seer. I have seen your future and what may or may not come to pass. Your master could become a great king with your help; Arthur has the potential to unite Albion and then and only then can magic be restored peacefully to the kingdom. That's what you wish, is it not?"

"Surely you want that too," Merlin said. A peaceful solution to the laws against magic was in everyone's best interests and but for people like Mildryd the task might even be simple.

"What I want is Uther dead and yes, I'll admit peace would be nice. " Mildryd said. "But what I want is irrelevant. I know what you're destined to become; you have barely scratched your own surface."

"Look, no offence but I'm tired of hearing about what I'm destined to become."

"Have you heard the full story?" asked Mildryd curiously.

"Knowing the dragon that told me, I doubt it," Merlin admitted, "But I don't suppose you're about to tell me and I wouldn't believe you if you did. You've given me every reason not to trust you."

"Arthur may become king or he may not live to do so but magic will return either way. This will be your doing, it is part of who you are and whichever road you take that destination is always the same."

This was news to Merlin. How could _he_ lift the laws on magic. Then he realised that she had said nothing about changing laws, only that magic would inevitably return. He had little patience for more riddles. "If you've got a point could you get to it quicker."

"Only Arthur can bring peace," she explained. "Without peace, Camelot will fall." She paused as if struggling with how to continue. "You will destroy... everything."

"What?" Bands constricted around Merlin's heart, clenching it tightly in his chest. Impossible. This had been the last thing he'd expected to hear. "You're wrong! I could never." He couldn't… and even if his powers grew to such extent, he'd never be capable of that…. He couldn't, he wouldn't… would he? She was lying. She had to be lying, but he needed to know more. "_Everything?… _What do you mean by everything?"

"I don't know for certain. All I know is that the world as we know it will be no more." What did that even mean? It sounded overly melodramatic and maybe it was, but why would she make this up? What did she have to gain?

"I'm not like you," said Merlin. "I would never do anything to harm the kingdom." _Not again_, he thought to himself.

"You may not have a choice," she replied sadly. No, there was always a choice.

"That does not matter. None of this matters. It is my destiny to protect Arthur and I would do so even if it were not. He is my friend. He will become the great king he was meant to be and neither you or anyone else will stop me." He couldn't risk waking Arthur but Merlin's forcefulness more than made up for his lack of volume. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because every night I dream and every night I see more clearly another future where your power overwhelms us all. Recently those dreams have crept into my waking moments. The first steps down that path have already been made."

"By me?"

"I cannot say."

"Can't or won't." Merlin was frustrated. He was being told that he would bring about Camelot's downfall and now he couldn't even get a straight answer. If he didn't know what he was supposed to do to cause this, how was he supposed to prevent it? He was not this person Mildryd spoke of, he couldn't be. He did not have it in him to destroy a kingdom. "I'm fed up of people telling me who I'm supposed to be," he argued. "I'm Merlin, just Merlin. Warlock. Servant. Friend. That is all and everything I am."

"I can't say," Mildryd said. "Timelines are complicated and I do not have the details. I only know I don't want that future any more than you."

"Then why are you doing this. You said that Arthur's death will cause this."

A short distance away Arthur stirred, hearing raised voices. He recognised Merlin and the sorceress.

"Almost definitely," he heard her answer. Neither of them had noticed he had woken. Some lookout Merlin had turned out to be.

"And yet you want to kill him." Arthur should go to help Merlin. He'd told him not to let her speak – the idiot – now he was in danger, however the conversation _was_ intriguing; clearly they were talking about him. He crouched down behind the low bushes, listening quietly but ready to act in an instant if necessary.

"I do not," Mildryd assured him. "But I know who I am. Survivor. Sister. Coward. That is all I am. I cannot and will not turn against my family."

"You could actually live with yourself knowing you murdered the one person who could save the kingdom? How can you have such disregard for other's lives? It's pathetic."

"Yes it is," confessed Mildryd. "But I have made my choice and nothing will change my mind."

"You know I'll stop you," Merlin spoke with unwavering resolution.

Arthur could scarcely believe how confident Merlin seemed given he was face to face with a sorceress who could probably take him apart with less than one blow. He wasn't sure if it was bravery or stupidity. Possibly both. Either way, his extreme loyalty stunned him. Merlin couldn't possibly stop anything and here he was sticking up for his life like this. Arthur couldn't help but feel the admiration welling up inside him.

"Part of me hopes you will, but things must return to the original plan," said Mildryd.

"Which is?" Merlin asked. Not for a second did Arthur believe that this sorceress would reveal anything but he admired Merlin for trying.

"Arthur Pendragon will die by our hand, and so you must die with him."

"That's enough!" Arthur yelled, revealing himself and standing between Merlin and Mildryd. "I knew I should have killed you. I thought I owed you for Merlin's life when clearly I was mistaken. I'm playing your game. I will go to Heolstor to beg for the lives of my people and bargain if I must, but you will not lay a finger on Merlin. He's not part of this battle."

"But he is part of the war," the sorceress stated.

"No, he isn't. He's just a gormless fool, I can't shake off – no offence, Merlin."

"None taken."

"It was not I who drained the swamp," she declared. "I just watched." Arthur stopped. So did Merlin.

"Then who?" Arthur asked. Mildryd raised an enigmatic eyebrow. There was a pause as he half expected someone to leap out and own up, but of course there was no-one else here except himself and Merlin.

"_Ic onbinde __Þ__á__s cnottan,_" she said suddenly taking Arthur by surprise. He took a step back as the knots retraining her hands and feet began to untie themselves and his fearful eyes darted backwards to the man he was protecting.

"Merlin, get out of here," he shouted.

"No."

"This is no time to pretend to be a hero."

"No!"

"Merlin! _Ooof_!" Arthur found himself thrown face-down to one side with a mouthful of grass.

"I am not going to kill you yet, Prince, but I need to know for sure," said Mildryd. She spoke to Arthur but was staring at Merlin with grim determination.

"Know what?" Arthur asked from the ground.

"If your servant will become what I've seen."

Arthur leapt to his feet – too late.

"_Offylle mid __Þ__æ__t dr__ý__lice eafo__ð_"

The stone pendant on the floor radiated like a hot coal and launched at Merlin's chest before Arthur could stop it. There it stayed, flashing golden sparks which were clearly magic and Merlin was brought crashing to his knees, and then the floor. Arthur rushed to his side. Dread crept through every inch of him leaving his throat dry. What had she done? Merlin's body was convulsing wildly and his skin burned like a branding iron in the darkness. Arthur couldn't touch him but not through lack of trying.

"What did you do?" the prince shouted, cradling his own blistering hand and not daring to tear his eyes from Merlin for more than a split second. The sorceress was watching her handiwork, a faraway look in her eyes. Merlin's eyes flared as the raw magic crept through every fibre of his being. The grass around his juddering figure blackened and died at the touch of so much untamed power and Arthur was forced to edge away, but still Merlin writhed against it.

"Damn," Mildryd murmured, bowing her head slightly.

"Stop this!" yelled Arthur, advancing on the woman furiously, caring naught for himself. As she fled from him, he pursued , but he could not catch her. Whenever he got too near he was tripped up ungainly until she had vanished completely into the black veil of the night. "No! Come back! Undo this!"

Behind him the darkness was pierced by the fiery glow from Merlin. He shouldn't have left him. _Why Merlin? _Arthur was forced to ask himself again. More importantly, how could he possibly survive this?

"Arthur," Merlin moaned as he sprinted back to him. His eyes were still blazing an unsettling gold and the Heolstor stone shone white hot against his chest. _What's wrong with you_? thought Arthur. _What am I supposed to do to help you? _"Arthur, get out of here!"

Arthur was shocked by Merlin's words, both by the fact that he was able to speak coherently and by what he was implying. "No," he said firmly.

"Please," Merlin begged.

"No!"

"_Arggh!" _Merlin groaned. "This is no time to pretend to be a hero."

"Don't give me any of that! I'm not going anywhere," Arthur insisted, "And neither are you. You're going to fight this."

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" he grimaced. A log exploded a few feet way from Merlin causing Arthur to start. _How– ? _That thought went unfinished as a larger shock-wave ripped suddenly through the night air and he was hurtled backwards like a rag caught in a gale. He sat up dazed and looked towards the source of the blast that thrown him off his feet but left him surprisingly unscathed. The searing heat and light forced him to squint.

"NO!" he screamed, hand held in front of his face against the flames. Through the rippling hot air, he could just make out Merlin's shape on the ground. "Merlin!" he coughed and spluttered, knowing there was little he could do. Still, Arthur refused to believe it and he couldn't and wouldn't give up this time. Merlin was the luckiest, most stubborn little sod he'd ever had the fortune to meet – so now, even though the idiot was engulfed by raging fire and seemed to be the source, he wasn't falling for it. There was no way it could all be over. Absolutely not. No way. No. "Merlin!" he cried, fighting the flames towards him.


	22. Ice and Fire

**Thank you very much to all my reviewers and to all the people who have added this story to their favourite lists… and also to anyone else who has bothered to read this far to be honest.**

_**Orion1432: **_**I'm very pleased you enjoyed the last chapter so much. The alternate future stems from themes and events in this story but I intend to explore the matter much more fully in a sequel as I have lots of ideas and want to do them justice. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations.**

**I'm not sure if this makes up for yet another evil cliffhanger but hopefully it's not a disaster. I don't know why, but I really, really struggled to write this chapter which annoyed me, and now I'm out of time to work on it. It's probably not what some people were hoping for but I hope you enjoy it anyway! :D  


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**Chapter 22  
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_Please Arthur, just get out of here I'm not safe, _Merlin thought as he fought a vicious struggle inside himself. His back arched violently as another surge from the pendant rushed through him and a nearby log blew apart as his body made an instinctive effort to expel it.

This was no spell or curse; it was magic pure and simple. Just magic, raw magic, straight from the heart of the source, gushing via the stone that clutched like a claw at his chest. He was used to the sensation of magic that pumped through his veins and the warm glow and strength it gave him, but it was always there, a constant, and he noticed it in the same way that he noticed his foot was at the end of his leg – it was normal and he didn't know any different. The magic that was being forced into him relentlessly made his head explode.

This magic was not like his own and yet at the same time it very much was – more so than any other magic he had ever encountered. It was the difference between a loyal guard dog and a wolf; both had the potential to be ferocious, but Merlin's magic was a part of him – it had been with him all his life and it walked at his heel. By contrast the foreign energy coursing through him had no master and unless he could wield it, and soon, it would consume him.

_Arthur, please just GO! _As his unspoken urging flashed through his mind he saw Arthur's shock-filled face as he was blasted backwards from him, an instant before power burst forth from his every pore, erupting in flames.

He twisted on the ground, a living torch, his breathing was laboured and a frantic hammer battered against his ribcage. The magic itself was neutral, there was just too much of it – more than anyone could possibly control, but Merlin couldn't help but feel betrayed by himself, that a force he felt so strongly connected to could destroy him like this. Well tough, he wasn't about to let it happen. He _would_ master this.

He could feel some of the magic mingling with his own, becoming one with him and valiantly rallying forth to help protect him from the blaze, but the flow from the pendant was never-ending and the excess was killing him. Having absorbed a huge amount, he could take no more, he must be rid of it. He had to take command and use it or it would be released from his body by force and if that were to happen, especially all at once, he dreaded to think what the results might be. He already felt like he was losing the battle and his defences were weakening as the uncontrollable outpouring of magic from himself gave strength to the flames that licked around him. He was getting hotter.

He only hoped that Arthur was safe and that the over-exuberant effort of his subconscious to keep him out of harm's way hadn't caused him any injury. No, he could just about see him through the fire, he seemed fine but he was struggling towards him. _No!_ Merlin's mind cried out despairingly. S_ave yourself!_

Before he knew what he was doing, Merlin's hand was outstretched and a silver dome shimmered briefly for a moment over him, stopping Arthur in his tracks. The sight of it vanished in an instant but the magic remained and despite everything, Merlin allowed himself a small smile. He had protected Arthur. That was the last coherent thought he had. As the sparks crackling inside his skull intensified, Merlin was gradually losing his grip on who and where he was. There was just the torrent of magic and the faint voice of reality telling him to fight it, whatever it took.

Standing there helplessly, so close yet so far, Arthur couldn't take his eyes of Merlin as he burned.

"No!" he raged. "No! No! No!" His fist beating against the invisible barrier with each word, but still it held firm. He gave it an additional kick for good measure before spinning round anxiously. Taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm himself, he pressed his hands against the shield that separated Merlin from him and watched. Merlin's blazing body still had its arm extended and a vague reassured smile had twitched the corner of his mouth, almost as if he'd done this deliberately. Of course Arthur knew that couldn't be the case; it was part of the sorceress's magic to keep him from doing anything. Still, it was maddening. Damn it – Merlin was the one who needed protecting, not him.

Merlin collapsed on his belly, now wearing an expression of intense pain. "Hot, hot, it's too hot."

Of course it was hot, he was on fire and Arthur needed to get to him but couldn't, not with this infernal… whatever this was stopping him.

"Cool," Merlin moaned. His eyes were closed and he no longer seemed entirely conscious to his surroundings. "_Cóle, cóle_, cool. I need it…I need..."

From out of nowhere an arctic wind whipped up around him, billowing inside the bubble and extinguishing the flames. Now they were out Arthur could clearly see Merlin, lying there on his front virtually naked save for a few scorched rags, which had once resembled clothing. His flesh was badly burnt. The prince could not help but stare in shock as Merlin's spread out hands emitted a ghostly pale glow and frost crept outwards from his down-turned palms, changing the blackened earth around his fragile form a silvery white. Icy fingers inched up the invisible shield separating the two men making it glassy and translucent, and the breath from Arthur's gaping mouth condensed on the barrier in front of him as he felt the bitter chill nipping at his exposed skin that was pressed against it. Had Merlin done this? How was that even possible? What was that stone doing to him?

Whatever it was couldn't be good. The frost spreading from Merlin's hand was also making its way up his arm, encasing him in a crystalline cocoon and he was shivering defencelessly against the cold.

Without warning, Arthur almost fell over, his fingers slipping against the smooth ice when the magical shield suddenly fell away leaving behind a glassy shell. It creaked ominously as cracks snaked through it, before the entire structure shattered to the ground in a hundred frozen pieces.

But he could get to Merlin.

The frigid air was even worse this side. Arthur crouched down beside him, tossed aside the fragments of ice that had fallen on him and carefully rolled him onto his back. The white frost clinging to his skin accentuated his burns making them look even more horrific than they already were and if he didn't know better Arthur might not even recognise him. The stone pendant still shone brightly as Merlin lay trembling. Try as he might though, Arthur could not remove it.

"Arthur," Merlin shivered, but didn't look at him.

"I'm here Merlin," said Arthur calmly.

"Arthur." Merlin was very much out of it and showed no sign that he knew his friend was watching over him. "It w-won't st-st-stop."

"Oi! Stay with me here. I haven't dragged you all this way so you can just give up on me now." Arthur was trying to act as normal as possible… considering.

"It's b-b-b-bloody f-f-f-f-freezing," Merlin stammered. Arthur felt some slight relief. So at least he was still in there somewhere.

"I know, but you're _my_ servant so you don't quit unless _I_ say so." Merlin's eyes were still tight shut and his head lolled to one side away from Arthur. "And look at me when I'm yelling at you."

Gently cupping Merlin's chin, Arthur tilted his head back round to face him. The young man's frozen eyelids opened a crack and a pair of golden eyes widened to his, although they looked straight through him. "That's better," said Arthur, deliberately ignoring the vacancy of Merlin's stare and trying not to let its abnormal colour, which stood out brightly in contrast to the iciness around them, disturb him too much. "Now I don't care what it takes, you are going to beat this… _thing_. And you _are_ going to get better. I'm telling you – no, I'm ordering you – you _will _get better."

"Get b-b-better?" Merlin answered. He sounded lost.

"Yes."

"Are you s-sure?"

"Positive."

"Y-you want that?"

"Of course I do."

"I t-think I can do t-that."

"That's more like it."

"I think I c-can do t-that."

"Good," Arthur said, though Merlin now appeared to be rambling.

"I can–" Merlin gasped suddenly and stopped shivering.

"Merlin?" Arthur reached for Merlin's shoulder. "Merlin, can you hear me?" Arthur gaped at his cold-numbed hand as it suddenly felt warmer against Merlin's skin. Once again Merlin was glowing and Arthur retracted quickly. "Merlin, fight this! Merlin, stop it!"

Taking another backward step, he couldn't help noticing the prickling sensation in his palm which he supposed was due to his burns now that the feeling was gradually coming back, but he stole a brief glance all the same. If it hadn't been attached to his wrist, Arthur would have probably thrown his own hand away from him in fright when he saw what was happening to it. He did a double-take. His broken blisters were disappearing and being replaced by perfect tissue, the redness was fading and the whiteness dulled, so there was no longer the faintest of traces to show he'd ever been hurt. Arthur then fixed his gaze firmly on Merlin. A similar phenomenon was happening to him.

The enveloping glow was softer this time, almost peaceful, almost harmless – but Arthur knew better than to be fooled by appearances. Nevertheless, the frost that covered him was gradually thawing and beneath his icy coating, Merlin's hideously charred flesh was becoming smooth and pale once again. Even the lesions obtained from the swamp weed were closing up as the newly repaired skin surrounding them knitted itself back together over each of the small wounds.

_How-?_

Arthur wasn't sure whether he should comfort Merlin, kill him, or run for the hills – especially when the tattered rags began repairing themselves too. Instead he ended up fixed to the spot until the pale light faded… and a while after that. If it wasn't for the fact that Merlin was lying on his back, his face contorted, there would be no sign that anything had happened. Arthur knew he should probably try and help him but still his feet would not respond, even though Merlin's expression seemed to indicate that he was in great pain – either that or he was trying to pass an egg. Given the bizarre events which had just occurred Arthur wasn't ready to discount that possibility.

With an massive groan, Merlin rolled onto his side and the pendant gave one last flicker before it went out, tumbling like an innocent pebble onto the dead ground. Only then did Arthur summon up the will to go to him. Arthur couldn't quite grasp the state that Merlin was no longer in. To be sure that it wasn't all just a trick, he cautiously lifted up Merlin's now intact shirt and brushed his healed hand against Merlin's skinny stomach. It was soft to his touch.

"Ow!" Arthur yelped, snatching his hand back as he felt a shock. "What the hell was that?" he exclaimed. Although he had a pretty fair idea. Merlin was still… _different_. Was he even Merlin anymore?

His fears, at least some of them, were put to rest when Merlin's forehead narrowed, his eyes opening one at a time to reveal the familiar blue he was accustomed to. "Did you just have your hand up my shirt?"

Arthur looked at him probingly, trying to ascertain if this was a stranger or a friend.

"Ooooh!" Merlin moaned, his head swimming and his mind foggy. "My head feels like it's been on fire."

"It was," Arthur pointed out.

"Oh," said Merlin. "Actually yes, I vaguely remember that bit. I guess that would explain it." Merlin clutched his throbbing head in his hand as he staggered to his feet.

"Do you remember any anything else?" Arthur asked carefully. "Do you know what y– what happened to you?"

"No, not really." Merlin searched his clouded thoughts. He could still feel traces of the raw magic he hadn't got rid of buzzing around his system and it was very distracting, but at least they were no longer killing him. He kept quiet about this – as long he could keep control he could handle it. They made their way back to the nearby spot where they had made camp earlier that night and Merlin racked his brains. There was something lurking, a vague recollection…"I hurt you! Arthur I'm–"

Arthur shook his head. "You didn't hurt me Merlin," he calmly replied .

"Your hand, it was burnt when you first touched me."

"It wasn't," Arthur insisted.

"You were clutching it and I could have sworn…"

"See, not a mark on me," said Arthur, holding up his palm so Merlin could see the clearly unblemished flesh.

"But-"

"There's nothing there, so you couldn't have burnt me," Arthur lied.

"Do you mind if I– ?" Arthur snatched his hand away and swiftly pulled on a glove before Merlin could inspect him more closely. Merlin frowned. His brain really was in a muddle. He could just about recall the fire and something about trying to protect Arthur, but after that it was empty. This vacant void suddenly dealt him a worrying blow. He must have done something to expel most of the magic, otherwise he wouldn't be here. He must have used it somehow and surely that wouldn't be discrete. What was missing? "No, I don't really remember anything else," he truthfully admitted. "My mind is pretty blank."

"No change there then."

"I didn't do anything… unusual?" he asked, testing the waters.

"Unless you count bursting into flames, becoming an icicle and finishing up better off than you started, then no, nothing unusual."

"Oh," Merlin exclaimed fearfully.

"Merlin, you were bewitched or cursed or something – define usual."

Arthur's use of the word 'were' did not go unnoticed. However, whatever Arthur may think, Merlin could still feel the excess power lingering within him, wanting to escape and he fought to contain it. There was something else wrong too. Despite everything else, he still felt remarkably good. Then it hit him – his clothes were mended, his wounds were gone. If he wasn't so concerned about the fact that he'd performed such a blatant act of sorcery in front of Arthur, he might even be impressed – if he could remember what on earth he had actually done to achieve this.

"Then how exactly has my body healed?" asked Merlin dubiously. Did the prince really not suspect him? He sounded like he was hinding something from him and he needed to hear Arthur's explanation before he could rest easy. His stomach was churning and Merlin wasn't sure whether it was magic or nerves, but he masked his discomfort well. "I had so many holes you could have used me to strain the greens," he continued.

Arthur shrugged. "How should I know how the twisted mind of a sorceress works?"

"So you're not… mad at me then?"

No, Arthur wasn't mad. At least not at him.

He placed his hands firmly on Merlin's shoulders and looked him directly in the eye, ignoring the obvious tingling sensation he felt beneath his fingertips as he touched him. "Look, you didn't hurt me and nothing that happened was your fault. Understand? You haven't done _anything _and everything is going to be fine," he said confidently. _I promise I'll find out what she's done to you and make her put it right._

Merlin's eyebrows narrowed in confusion but he nodded. Then he looked as if he was about to be sick. As Merlin doubled over, Arthur grimaced slightly at the thought of imminent vomit, but kept one arm round Merlin as he took a step to one side. However, instead of what he'd been expecting, a shower of golden sparks streamed out of Merlin's retching mouth and took on the majestic form of a dragon, which flew high into the moonless sky before dissipating in a shimmering cloud of glowing ember. Arthur was speechless and couldn't deny that despite the possible harmful implications for Merlin, his views on magic and his experiences with one particular dragon, it was a rather dazzling sight – unsettling, very unsettling – but dazzling all the same.

Merlin looked up, shockingly aware of what he had just done and Arthur shook himself back to reality. Merlin was waiting for his reaction and Arthur wasn't sure what response to give. He couldn't cover up the fact that this curse, or bewitchment, or whatever it was, hadn't gone away any longer, and that one way or another that meant Merlin now possessed some form of magic – although from what he'd seen he clearly didn't have any control. Given that this was someone who hadn't yet mastered control of the four limbs he was born with, this was a frightening prospect. It would most likely twist round and bite him at the first opportunity, that was how magic worked. Merlin with magic; it defied logic, but despite what Arthur might frequently tell himself, Merlin was not a complete idiot – he knew what was wrong with him_, _and now he knew that _he _knew.

"Arthur."

_If my father knew, he'd have a fit, _Arthur thought, and a large part of him could see his point. But Merlin hadn't chosen this, he was clearly a victim and he hadn't hurt anybody. Arthur glanced at his gloved hand; well, not deliberately. Merlin wouldn't hurt a fly – a rabbit, maybe – but never a fly, and it wasn't as if he was a danger to others out here in the middle of nowhere. He wasn't in the wrong and he shouldn't be punished.

"Arthur."

But what to say to him? What do you say to someone when they've suddenly been changed into something they're not? Arthur didn't even know that this was possible, but he'd seen the evidence with his own eyes and now Merlin had too. Other people were a mystery to him. What must Merlin be thinking right now? Arthur knew how to deal with magical creatures – you killed them, simple as that – but dealing with Merlin like this was a situation that he wasn't cut out for, and he knew it. The usual rules didn't seem to apply.

"Sire."

Conveniently, for Arthur at least, he was spared making a response when Merlin unexpectedly clutched at his forehead and teetered on the spot, his eyes briefly blazing gold again before rolling back in his head. Obviously this magic was still affecting him badly. Arthur caught him as he collapsed on his shoulder.

After reassuring himself that Merlin was merely unconscious and that the risk of spontaneous combustion was minimal, Arthur pushed him off and carried him to the horse, draping his limp friend over the animal's back. Maybe this effect would wear off soon, only time would tell, but until then there was only one course of action available. As much as Arthur loathed the idea of marching into the lion's den with the lion's unfinished dinner on a platter, he knew that if Merlin didn't recover on his own, the only way to find help was to get to Heolstor as planned, and hope that his negotiation skills were good enough.


	23. We need to talk

**A/N: I want to apologise profusely for the insane length of time it has taken me to update this story. Computer issues have plagued me and then I've had various family events to attend including my grandparents diamond wedding anniversary celebrations which obviously take priority over fanfiction. After a bit of a block on the next few chapters, I'm slowly getting back into the swing of writing again. I was very relieved to learn last week that I actually passed my degree despite the fact I didn't study as hard as I should have done this year, so with that weighty worry out of my mind I'm free to think about this story again.**

**Thank you kindly to everyone who reviewed the last chapter – even if you were just nagging for me to update ;) **

**Replies**

**Aaron:** Sorry for the unforeseen delays. I hope to be able to update more swiftly in future.

**emerald.97:** Thank you very much once again. I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter.

**Orion1432:** Thanks again. Yes Arthur is supportive but on the other hand his head is full false ideas so you'll have to see how things turn out.

**Jacqs: ** I much prefer the Merlin and Arthur stuff too but I think it would be wrong to ignore what's happening in Camelot given that revenge against Uther was a part of the plan and that saving Camelot is the focus of Merlin and Arthur's quest. Having said that I'm still carrying on with Merlin and Arthur in this chapter when I really should have included some other stuff too.  
Sorry if you got confused a bit by some of the stuff that happened in the last chapter. I'm afraid I can't answer your question fully without giving away my future ideas. Maybe this next chapter will clear up some of the things you were wondering about but just to clarify, the stone pendant was used to channel loads of 'raw magic' into Merlin like Heolstor stone has been used previously to channel power for spells . This amount of power would have killed him if he couldn't have used it and expelled it. It was this magic that Merlin 'controlled' (albeit very badly) in the last chapter. As to whether this experience will have had lasting consequences, I won't say at this stage.

**I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter! It was very difficult to write and I'm still not happy with it. I don't know if it was harder because the interaction is more serious or just because I'm dying from hayfever at the moment but it's about bloody time I gave you guys _something_.**

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**Chapter 23**

Arthur marched purposefully across the open fields, heading with grim determination towards the tree-line which lay ahead. Beyond that he could make out the faint dark silhouette of Heolstor cliffs though the dwindling night. He couldn't remember passing through another wood the last time but it was many years ago. He supposed they had gone around as they had the swamp but time was of the essence and this was clearly the quickest route.

Every so often he would check on his servant who was draped across the back of the horse he was leading. This time Merlin had begun rambling incoherently – something about shadows.

"Calm down, Merlin. You're going to be fine."

Pulling back Merlin's eyelids he saw they were their usual colour. That was good. The first time he had tried this he'd received a flash of gold and a singed boot for his trouble. Every time he assessed Merlin's condition he seemed more normal at least – not that he really knew what he was looking for. He had noticed that the bizarre tingle beneath Merlin's skin was still present, although only barely and Arthur could almost dismiss it as his imagination.

What he couldn't dismiss though were his memories: Merlin burning, Merlin freezing, Merlin healing. The curse had brought him to the brink of death then back again. What had happened to him? What had Merlin become and why? Arthur quickly brushed aside the why, trying to rationalise the ways of magic made his head hurt and he already had enough to worry about.

Arthur examined the flesh on his hand again for the hundredth time. There was no pain, no blistering, no redness, nothing, and Merlin had done this. He had ordered the boy in desperation to get better and he had subconsciously complied... using _magic_. He had touched him and his wound had vanished too. But this was no time to ponder miracles and this was only half a blessing. Merlin was different now, Merlin was changed and he still needed help.

_But what if there's nothing that can help him?_

No, he would find the sorceress who did this to him and make her undo it.

_Why would she do that?_

He would damn well make her, that's why.

_How?_

Did it matter? He was going to fix this.

_But what if you can't?_

_I will!_

_But what if you can't?_

What if he couldn't? What would that mean for Merlin? If he woke up would he still have magic? What would Merlin do then? What would Merlin _be_ then? The laws of Camelot were clear about this sort of thing, he would have to make a decision but this was _Merlin _and that made things hard.

He sighed sadly as he entered the wood. The vast tree trunks stood straight and tall, a dense array of rounded leaves forming a gapless ceiling high above him. In contrast to the woods they had travelled through the day they had left Camelot, the forest-floor was dusty and bare and there was no rustling of undergrowth to be made as Arthur and the horse plodded on through the lonely, dim surroundings. He realised his worries were mostly academic anyway. He was wandering to face three sorceresses who held Camelot at their mercy and who wanted him dead. He would do whatever it took to ensure Camelot and Merlin survived but he knew his chances of coming out of this alive were slim to none. He had said nothing of this to Merlin though, it did not do to dwell on such dark thoughts.

xxx

Later, and Merlin felt his head bouncing against something soft as he stirred feeling refreshed. He was aware that he was moving even though he was lying still in this awkward position. He tried to pull himself up and somehow in doing so, promptly fell off the horse with an ungainly thud.

He gazed up at the dark canopy of leaves above him which completely blotted out the sky and it was difficult to tell how long he'd been out. Was it still night? As he lay on the flat of his back he listened to the muffled footfalls of the horse as it was led back round towards him.

"Well it's about time." A blonde haired head floating upside down above him said in a jocular fashion. "Trust you to go to extreme lengths to steal the only means of transport."

"Yes, very funny. Give us a hand up."

Arthur shook his head, probably due to the fact that his servant was giving him orders, but he yanked him to his feet all the same. As he did so Merlin felt a wave come over him and he thought he might have another random outburst, but he managed to keep his magic restrained. The raw magic that the stone pendant had channelled into him had nearly all been expelled and what little remained had mingled with his own magic and was now as much a part of him as the power he had always possessed. Although it was back under his control, his magic was a torrent racing though him, as fresh and impulsive as it had been before he had arrived in Camelot and he'd begun to tame it with knowledge. He would have to be careful not to be too instinctive otherwise Arthur would... Merlin's eyes widened suddenly and he looked into the prince's. Arthur _knew – _well, he knew he had magic even if he didn't know the truth.

As he was pulled upright, Merlin caught Arthur frowning slightly as if something was missing but Merlin didn't enquire further. Other than that he looked surprisingly calm and his lack of hostility towards him was an encouraging sign at least.

"How are you feeling?" Arthur looked at him inquiringly.

"A lot better considering," Merlin said

"Better?"

"I'm not going to set myself on fire again in a hurry." Arthur snorted slightly.

"That's good to know," he said. "But are you still, you know...? Do you have magic?"

Merlin pondered this for a moment. This was his chance. This was his opportunity to cover everything up again. He could sweep it all under the rug as easily as the dirt on Arthur's floor; all he had to do was lie.

"Yes," he said truthfully.

"Okay," Arthur nodded.

"Okay? Is that all you've got to say. I have magic!" Merlin blurted out, astonished at Arthur's lack of reaction.

Arthur shrugged and continued walking again, leading the riderless horse. Merlin ran round in front of him, blocking his path.

"Mer-lin. What are you doing?"

"Arthur, we need to talk," said Merlin seriously

"Funny, I thought we were," said Arthur, eyebrows raised.

"I meant properly."

"You have magic inside you." It was a definite statement.

"Yes. That's true," Merlin confirmed.

"Fine," Arthur said dismissively. "So what else is there to talk about."

"Well I would have thought _that_ would have been a pretty big concern right now."

Despite the fact that Merlin was the taller man, Arthur had an uncanny talent for looking down at him and did so now as his mouth twitched into a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry," he said, "We'll fix this."

Merlin sighed. Clearly Arthur was still convinced that his magic was the by-product of some kind of curse, but it wasn't. There was nothing wrong with him and he certainly didn't need curing. He was never going to be fixed and Arthur didn't get that.

"What if you can't?" said Merlin slowly.

"I promise you, we'll sort this out."

"But–"

"I don't want to hear it, Merlin."

"I think you have to," he insisted. "What if this is permanent? What if I were to stay magical?"

"It's not going to happen," Arthur vowed.

"Will you just face facts."

"No, I won't!"

"This isn't something that's just going to go away," Merlin said firmly but calmly.

"You can't know that!" Arthur snapped.

"I do. I just… do. This is who and what I am now and sometime soon you're going to have to decide how you're going to deal with that."

"Do you _want_ me to execute you?"

"No, I…"

"Then shut up!"

Merlin's face fell and he knew he was forced to comply. They trudged along in silence though the dark wood, Arthur leading the way and Merlin right behind. The shadows on all sides of them seemed to stare at them as if the darkness was alive. Merlin supposed it was because he was feeling particularly self-conscious at the moment but couldn't shake a bad feeling about this place.

A little while ahead Arthur stopped suddenly and Merlin, lost in thought and worry bumped straight into his back. He took a reverse step as Arthur wheeled round.

"How can you be so calm about this?" Arthur asked. "Look at what she did to you," he shouted.

"I look the same to me. Honestly, I really am still the same clumsy, totally useless Merlin you've always known."

"Are you?" Arthur glowered at him up and down. "Because what you did, that wasn't you. You nearly _died_."

"I'm fine now."

"Exactly!" shouted Arthur exasperatedly, flailing his hands. "You're up and about like nothing ever happened."

"Eh."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"Actually, I'm rather relieved."

"Relieved?"

"Well, I'm glad I'm not dead."

"I didn't mean... So am I," Arthur admitted and a small graced his lips. "Can you honestly say though, that you're not scared by all this? I wouldn't blame you if you were."

"I don't know," said Merlin. He had been terrified before when the foreign magic had overwhelmed him, but now he knew he had nothing to fear from the magic now; what remained was his own. What had him concerned was Arthur's reaction and even worse, his possible reaction if and when he found out the complete truth.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know," Merlin reiterated. "Are you?"

"What? _Me_ scared of _you_? Of course I'm scared of you, you're a disaster waiting to happen but sadly there's nothing new about that."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," he said with resolve. He knew Arthur too well. He hated expressing his feelings, expressing his 'weaknesses' and he was frequently berated for doing so, but when he did let loose, he erupted and it was seldom pretty. This time though, Merlin had to get past his defences to him. He needed to know what Arthur was really thinking.

"What do you want me to say?" Arthur exclaimed.

"The truth."

"That _is_ the truth."

"Arthur."

"Mer-lin."

"_Arthur_."

"That's enough!" Arthur yelled. "The Merlin I know would never speak to me like this."

"Don't kid yourself. I'm the _only_ person who'd dare speak to you like this." The hard prince's mask faltered and Merlin knew that Arthur knew that he was right.

"Well, you're way out of line."

"So what are you going to do, Sire? Put me in the stocks? Throw me in jail?" Merlin suggested

"As a matter of fact I–"

"That might be a little bit difficult in the middle of a forest." Merlin's blue eyes glinted as Arthur stopped, his finger poised mid-point. His gaze drifted between its tip and his infuriating servant as he decided on his next response.

"I'll leave you here," he threatened.

"Then I'll follow you," Merlin swiftly replied.

"I'll tie you to a tree," Arthur countered. His stern façade was slipping and he was sounding increasingly like a bickering child.

"You'll tie me to a tree in the middle of a strange forest miles from anywhere and just leave me here alone where anything could happen."

"Exactly," said Arthur, nodding.

"You wouldn't?"

"I would," he said keenly his eyebrows raised.

"No, you wouldn't," Merlin stated confidently. Arthur grimaced as his bluff fell away in tatters.

"No, I wouldn't," he admitted with reluctance.

Merlin was quite proud of himself. He knew that the average boot-licker would be cowering in a corner round about now – and if they couldn't find a convenient corner in the middle of a forest they would hastily construct one and then cower in it; it was all part of the job. Fortunately for the pair of them, he was no boot-licker and his two years of service meant Merlin knew exactly how to get Arthur to open up and that usually involved the risky business of pestering him no end. Unfortunately this ordinarily amusing activity had lost its usual appeal. He got no pleasure from it this time, in fact quite the reverse.

"So?" Merlin asked probingly.

Arthur flung his head back and paced for a moment in silence before a half-hearted laugh escaped his lips.

"Yes Merlin, alright, I admit it, I'm scared. Happy?" Arthur said, as if it was the hardest thing he'd ever been forced to utter.

Merlin lowered his eyes. "Of me?" he asked solemnly.

"I don't know." Arthur shook his head. "I honestly don't know." He thought for a second, forcing himself to look at Merlin. "No, not of you," he realised, "Just _this_. I wasn't expecting anything like _this_. Everything is different now, don't you see? How am I supposed to just sit back and accept that? How? I can't. There is a solution, I have to believe that – we both do.

"Have you actually considered what would happen if you stayed like this," Arthur continued. "Magic is dangerous and let's face it you're bad enough with just a _sword_. I'm concerned about you, Merlin, and I'm concerned about your unbelievable attitude. Aside from the fact that you'd probably end up turning _yourself_ into a frog in the very near future, have you thought what would happen to you if you were caught?"

"More so than you know," Merlin replied ."But I don't have any choice. I can't change this."

"That wouldn't make any difference to my father if you returned to Camelot. One slip and your head would be straight on the executioners block or worse, you'd be burned alive. Surely once was enough? How can you expect me to sit back and watch that? I couldn't, but what else am I supposed to do? Magic is banned absolutely in Camelot and I'm the prince, I can't break the law."

"I wouldn't ask you to protect me."

"I wouldn't have any other choice," Arthur said.

"Really?"

"You're a risk, but you don't deserve to be punished. I'm not going to have you arrested for being attacked, so I guess I'd just have to keep an eye on you. I can't have you destroying Camelot while my back's turned."

A cold shiver ran down Merlin's spine as he remembered what Mildryd had said about him. Of course Arthur didn't know this. His unease must have been glaringly obvious though, as it didn't go unnoticed.

"I was joking,"Arthur assured him. "I know you, Merlin. You're not evil and no amount of magic is going to change that."

"I hope you're right," Merlin muttered.

"I'm always right."

_No Arthur, you're not_, thought Merlin as the lies that cemented their friendship sniggered back. But what could he say? Whatever Arthur may think he wasn't going to be cured; there was nothing wrong with him, in fact he felt better than ever and sooner or later Arthur would have to live with the fact that he had magic.

Merlin had to admit he could never have foreseen it happening like this. Arthur was struggling uncertainly in the face of reality and that was obvious, but beneath all that was a glimmer of understanding. This probably had something to do with the fact that actually, he didn't understand a thing. He was angry, yes, but not with him. He wasn't feeling betrayed and he should have been. This entire situation was surreal yet slightly perfect; his magic was out in the open and Arthur was being tolerant. Maybe in time Arthur would even accept him if he 'learnt' to control his magic and use it on command.

It would be so easy play into the falsehood to avoid the hurt the truth would undoubtedly cause and Merlin was tempted. He might long for the day when Arthur would accept him for who he really was, but the act of telling him – an act he had played out so many times in his head with varying degrees of success – was still a frightening prospect. This new option he'd been handed danced enticingly in front of him. True, it wouldn't change the fact that he couldn't talk about any of the things he had already done but what was new about that? It certainly offered more freedom than he had at the moment.

What would Gaius tell him to do? If Gaius was here he would probably whip up a useless potion to 'remove the curse' and it would be back to the same old routine, the same old lies.

Oh, who was he trying to kid. Freedom? The idea was laughable. Merlin wasn't just a servant he was a slave, not to Arthur but to the web of deception and deceit that he weaved every day. How could he entertain the notion that more lies would ease his entrapment. Sooner or later the truth would out and the more he tried to cover things up the worse the outcome would be. There was no hiding any longer; he had magic and Arthur knew that. The only thing left was to tell him that this had always been the case.

If he could only wait for the perfect moment things might be simpler, but Merlin knew that perfect moments didn't really exist. He'd waited long enough for one to have figured that out. How much longer could he put off the inevitable? This was not going to be easy.

"Arthur," he began. "There's something really important I need to say to you."

"What is it?"

The atmosphere around them was eerily calm and the movement of the trees was silent. Around them the shadows encroached nearer and nearer. The bad feeling Merlin had been experiencing grew worse. He tried not to let it distract him.

"Arthur I'm..."

"Yes?"

"I'm..." He was sure that he could see more clearly than this before.

"Merlin are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, but I need to tell you..." He squinted to make out Arthur's face.

"What's wrong? It's magic isn't it?" Arthur persisted. Merlin knew it was no use. Any confessions would have to wait.

"I don't know, but it's not me."

"Are you sure?"

"Does it seem darker to you?" Merlin asked. Arthur looked around. Only the nearest sturdy trunks were visible in the gloom.

"A little, yes."

"I think we should leave," said Merlin.

"For once, you might have a point," Arthur agreed.

They turned around slowly, both scanning around them for signs of trouble, but as they stood temporarily back to back their eyes were useless and their ears picked up nothing.

Merlin turned back to face Arthur again but was met only by pitch blackness.

"Arthur?"

"Merlin?"

"Arthur, where are you?"

"I'm here."

"Where? _Ooof!_"Merlin walked into something soft but firm. "Arthur?" Arthur whinnied.

"I think that's the horse, Merlin."

"Sorry." Merlin blundered through the darkness trying to find the source of Arthur's dry remarks.

"Where the hell have you gone to, you were only next to me?"

"I'm not sure." There was the sound of a large exasperated exhale of breath.

"Follow my voice."

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" Merlin cried out as he walked into a tree.

"Arthur!" he called again. No reply.

"Arthur!"

More silence.

"Arthur?"

He was alone.


	24. An Illuminating Experience

**What can I say? Writer's block is evil and I am jinxed when it comes to computers breaking. Thanks for all the reviews, alerts etc. (replies to unsigned reviews are at the end this time). Thanks for your patience in putting up with my infrequent updates. Thanks for reading! Now I'll let you get on with this VERY long chapter to make up for things. **

**Enjoy! This was a tough one.**

* * *

**Chapter 24 - An Illuminating Experience**

Merlin stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do next. The sound of his own breathing roared out through the otherwise deathly silent forest. He could see nothing at all. In fact the only indications that he still existed in a physical world at all, were the feeling of firm earth beneath his feet and the musty smells of the wood. He could stay here and hope that Arthur, whose sense of direction was vastly greater than his own, could find him again but he got the distinct impression and a sense of dread that Arthur was in trouble. He wasn't about to stay put and let any harm come to him.

Suddenly Merlin's feeling of being alone was replaced by something else. There _was _another presence here that was definitely not Arthur. It seemed to be all around him. Merlin was entertained by an unpleasant thought; his earlier impression that the shadows were alive may not have been wholly inaccurate.

He was about to summon himself a light to see with – forget the consequences –when a hideous sensation interrupted him mid-incantation and brought him to his knees with a muffled thud. His head was throbbing and he felt sick, as someone, or something compressed his skull. He curled into a ball, grimacing, as the pressure increased and his fingertips twisted into his hair as he fought against whatever was doing this to him. Instinctively, he sent a pulse of energy bursting outwards from him in an attempt to throw off his attacker. It didn't do any good; the darkness was still upon him.

Cold tendrils reached inside him, burying themselves inside his mind and his eyes screwed up tightly.

"Get out of my head!" he screamed between gritted teeth. He immediately envisioned a block between his thoughts and _it_, not knowing if it would work.

It seemed to do some good. He could feel the oppressive crushing beginning to ease and the invasive presence retreated swiftly.

In the last moment that there was a connection between them, Merlin felt an urge to grasp back. He reached out with his mind towards the entity, drawing out information, answers. He received another pounding headache on top of the one he already had for his trouble but at least he now knew what this was.

"_**Áscín!**_" he groaned.

There was a flash of light and the darkness receded slightly. He stumbled upright.

"_**Áscín!**_" he yelled again and a wall of shadow moved away from him.

He followed behind the vast patch of blackness that was retreating ahead, rapidly running forward into the unknown. Because he did know one thing. Arthur was in there somewhere and he needed his help.

* * *

Arthur was not alone. He didn't know who or what was watching him but all his instincts were telling him there was something else with him and it wasn't Merlin. Where on earth was Merlin anyway? Surely they should have run into each other by now. Mind you, the idiot did have little or no sense of direction at the best of times.

Arthur wandered blindly through the dark on high alert, keeping his ears pricked for either any signs of danger or the ungainly stumbling of gangly legs. If anything had happened to Merlin…. He needed someone to keep an eye on him, now more than ever – but eyes were useless in this situation anyway. As much as Arthur was uncomfortable with Merlin's magical outbursts, if he _did _suddenly feel an uncontrollable compulsion to start glowing again, now would be an opportune moment. He thought for a moment that he _had _seen a brief flash of light in the distance, but he decided he'd imagined it. He _hoped _he'd imagined it. Who knew what Merlin was capable of now? In fact, he hadn't completely dismissed the possibility that Merlin was the cause of all this, despite his assertion to the contrary. He didn't exactly know a lot about magic, after all. What _did _it feel like? Still, it wasn't really his fault and Arthur could hardly blame him for something he couldn't control. Well… not until he _found_ him, anyway.

The darkness was so thick around him, it seemed solid and if he didn't know better he would have sworn he could feel it pressing down on him, clinging tightly to his skin. But Arthur was hardly afraid of the dark. He took another couple of steps forward then closed his eyes as a wave of nausea flooded through him. His hands raised to rub his suddenly aching head. He hadn't imagined _that_. This was more than mere darkness he was walking through. He also knew that Merlin wasn't the cause.

Blinking, he reopened his eyes and was surprised to discover that although it was still very gloomy, he could in fact, see once more. It took a few seconds to become re-accustomed to his sense of sight. The first thing he noticed was that he had no idea where he was and the second was that there was no sign of Merlin anywhere. Had they really managed to walk so far away from one another?

Arthur spun around to get his bearings and stopped short in shock. Standing behind him, now in front, was the very last person he'd expected to see. This man clearly wasn't who he appeared. This was evident by the fact that the figure before him wasn't entirely human in appearance. It's eyes were lit with a ghostly pale glow but aside from that, its every feature: skin, clothes and hair, although perfectly duplicated in every other respect, were as black as the night – or more precisely, as black as the shadows that had not long ago surrounded him. Another far more important reason he knew that this person's identity was a falsehood, was that the man he was looking at was himself, Arthur Pendragon.

"Who are you?" asked Arthur sharply. This creature before him, his double, regarded himself up and down before answering.

"Honestly, I'd have thought you _might_ have been able to hazard a guess," his own voice answered back.

"I know what you are. You're an illusion."

"No. Actually, you'll find I'm not."

"Don't play games with me. What are you?"

"Seriously," shadow Arthur laughed. I'm not playing games. I'm you."

"No you're not! I haven't got time for this." Arthur whirled around. If this was another illusion, there was no point in talking to it. "Where are you? Show yourself!"

"Talking to yourself is not a good sign." Arthur ignored him.

"What do you hope to gain from this pretence?" There was silence. "What have you done with Merlin?" There was no indication that anyone else was present. "Answer me!" he shouted to his surroundings.

"A little agitated today, are we?" the other him suggested.

"Shut up!" Arthur snapped back. "Where's Merlin?"

"He's probably lost, or walked into a tree and knocked himself out. What would I do with Merlin. He's completely useless for anything I might need him for."

"And do you 'need' me?" asked Arthur, frowning.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"It's obvious. We're the same."

"We are NOT the same," Arthur asserted, "and if you think you're going to fool anyone, you're gravely mistaken. You barely look like me, you certainly don't sound like me. You're nothing more than a trick, or else some sort of magical creature."

"Fair enough. I see you're smarter than you look."

"If you _were _me you wouldn't question that."

The shadow laughed again. Arthur wished he'd stop doing that. This person, or whatever it was couldn't have been any more annoying if he'd been Merlin.

"Wouldn't I?" it said. "As a matter of fact I _do_ know everything that you know. I will admit to mild disappointment, but even _your _mind is fractionally better than no mind at all."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Arthur asked sternly. His shadow-self sighed.

"I mean that without you I just exist – alive as the by-product of magic, but without thought or feeling. Now, thanks to you, I can experience more than that. I refuse to return to what I once was. That is why I can't let you leave this place."

"I will not stay here and let you steal from me!"

"Copy, not steal," the shadow corrected.

"There's no difference."

"I've taken nothing from you. If I had, you would not be standing there now."

"I refuse to stay here."

"Then you sentence me to death."

"So be it," Arthur said.

"Then you leave me no choice."

The shadow advanced on Arthur, determinedly. Arthur had no idea what it planned to do with him but he was ready. As it moved forward so did Arthur's sword. The double's face wore a look of surprise and the tip emerged from his back.

Arthur withdrew the weapon in a smooth motion and regarded his handiwork. He was shocked when the shadow lifted it's uncomfortably familiar head and looked him straight in the eye.

"Must you be so stubborn, Arthur?"

_Damn it! _The prince cursed himself for his error. Why couldn't he have worked out that his blade would be useless. What courses of action were left available to him now? Few. As much as a swift withdrawal seemed like the most viable option right now, he was loathed to run away, especially when he still didn't know where Merlin was. As he set about planning his next move, a motion below him caught his eye. He glanced down in panic to see dark shapes moving at his feet.

"What are you doing?" he shouted as the darkness spread upwards and outwards, enveloping him in a large circle. He darted forward in an attempt to escape it but as he tried to force himself through the dense black mist, his strength was drained and his knees fell out from underneath him. He staggered up and tried again. Once again he collapsed exhausted on the ground. Furiously, he shuffled backwards and reaching behind, pulled himself upright on a nearby tree-trunk, never removing his stern glare from his captor.

"I cannot let you leave."

"If you know what I know, then you'll know why I'm here. Please," he implored. If there truly was any part of himself in this creature it had to respond. "For the sake of Camelot if nothing else, you must let me continue."

"No," the shadow said firmly.

"Then this proves beyond all doubt that we are nothing alike. I would never be so self-serving when lives are at stake."

"I simply threw aside your concerns," it explained. "I won't deny it, your devotion was certainly admirable, but I cannot afford to let anything stand in the way of my goal. With a mind so cluttered it is a small wonder you can think at all. Worry for Camelot, for your people, for your father, and worry for Merlin. What is it you see in this _Mer_lin character anyway? Let's face it, he's a bit of an idiot. Maybe he does have one or two redeeming features, but now he has _magic. _You _do _actually realise what that means?"

"My opinions regarding Merlin are my business alone. All I will say is that magic changes nothing. Merlin is still the same person he always was."

"Except for the tiny fact that he's a sorcerer."

"Merlin is not a sorcerer."

"Why not? He's used magic hasn't he?"

"Yes, but that was different," Arthur explained. "That wasn't sorcery."

"It looked that way to me…. Alright, it looked that way to you."

"This isn't Merlin's fault. He can't control this!"

"He can't control this _yet."_

"What are you trying to suggest?" Arthur scowled.

"How long do you think it will be before he does?"

"This is _Merlin _we're talking about."

"Point taken. But think about what'll happen if he doesn't. How long could you protect him before someone got hurt?"

"For as long as I have to," Arthur declared confidently. "Merlin didn't learn magic. He's only had it a few hours. That doesn't make him a sorcerer."

"It's a unique start, I'll admit, but that's all. The result will be the same."

"You're wrong!"

* * *

Merlin sprinted desperately through the trees searching for some sign of Arthur. He winced as branch scratched his face. The darkness had mysteriously cleared and Merlin wasn't sure what that meant, but it couldn't be good. Also, it was still difficult to see beneath the canopy of trees.

They were so very close now and the cliffs of Heolstor lay just across the river beyond these woods. Ordinarily sources of magic released their power gradually and any effects on the balance of nature were negligible. It was part of that balance.

But people were greedy and yearned for power. Centuries ago the pillar had been built to satisfy that craving. Now people were playing with power that was beyond their understanding and that power had been overexploited as of late. That was not without consequences. Merlin understood that now. That was why he needed to find Arthur and fast.

He could feel it all around him now. Magic. This forest thrummed with it and random magic did some pretty strange things. He should know. The darkness that dwelt there was alive because of it and it wanted a mind. Well, 'wanted' wasn't entirely accurate as that would imply an existing mind with which to want something. Instead it was driven to obtaining it like a plant is driven towards the sunlight. It had already tried with his and failed. His magic had given him the strength he needed to drive away the darkness, as well as given him some valuable insight into what he was dealing with. Strong he may be, but Arthur did not have that same luxury.

Suddenly, through his grey surroundings, he spotted something ahead – a young man trapped in a ring of shadow. He'd recognise that outline and that expression of defiance in the face of adversity anywhere. The figure stood in front of him was almost equally familiar. Merlin gasped. Two Arthurs. Normally that thought would have made him shudder at the best of times but now he did so for a different reason. He was too late.

Sighing, he turned and leaned backwards against a tree while he decided what to do next. Magic was all that he could do – there was no other way.

"No!" Arthur maintained steadfastly. His words echoed forwards toward where the warlock was concealed. "Whatever else has happened, Merlin is not a sorcerer!"

Merlin's heart sank as Arthur's words pounded hammer-like at his chest. He began having thoughts, although by now he'd lost track of whether they were second thoughts, or forty-second. He could always put on the best act of his life and pass it all off as uncontrollable luck. _No_, he shook aside his doubts. His mind was made up. This certainly wasn't the 'perfect' time – it didn't even come close, but it was the only time that mattered. Arthur needed him, needed his magic. On this occasion the prospect of using his talents filled him with fear, to as much extent as facing any dangerous magical beast. There would be no more hiding, no more excuses, but most importantly, no more lies. Arthur would know and would accept him, or he wouldn't – quite possibly the latter. They had been through so much together, and yet all it would take would be one short moment for all they had built between them to be dashed into a hundred broken pieces. Nevertheless, Merlin owed him the truth. It would be an insult to conceal it any longer.

"Merlin," remarked shadow Arthur, spotting the young warlock where he hid. "Well it's about time you showed up. The real Arthur looked across in surprise.

This was it: the moment of truth. Merlin took a deep breath before stepping out from behind the tree and facing him. "Let him go!" said he firmly, striding forward.

"Why? What are you going to do to me?" the shadow scoffed.

Those familiar words, spoken by that familiar voice, stung terribly. _You have no idea_, thought Merlin, his sad awareness of the enormity of what he was about to do weighing down on him like lead.

"Merlin, be careful!" warned Arthur.

Merlin averted his gaze, his head dropping shamefully.

"Honestly Merlin, you're pathetic." Merlin ignored the dark duplicate's derogatory remarks but his eyes were still lowered.

"Arthur, I'm truly sorry... about everything," he said, his every word laced with deep regret. "I never wanted it to happen like this."

"Merlin, what's going on?" asked Arthur, confused. Merlin raised his hand slowly and with purpose. It trembled slightly. Arthur caught on fast and a shiver of fear crawled icily down his back. "Merlin DON'T! You can't control this. You have no idea what you're doing. Anything could happen!"

"I'm sorry," Merlin repeated.

"Don't be an idiot." And for once both Arthur's were in complete agreement.

Merlin's eyes finally lifted upwards and they locked with the imprisoned prince's, almost pleading.

"Forgive me," he said simply.

Arthur's eyes narrowed as he peered into Merlin's gaze, trying – not for the first time – to figure him out. There was something hidden beneath that imploring stare. Should he know what it was?

Without blinking Merlin's expression became determined and focused, radiating a cool, calm strength that Arthur never knew existed. Gone was the boy who would walk into tables and arrive late for everything; now he stood before him self-assuredly as a man. He even very nearly had Arthur convinced. If only he had the faintest clue about whatever he was trying to achieve, instead he could get them both killed.

"_**Ic ofsende ormætene glæm!"**_

If the strange language that flowed effortlessly from Merlin's lips caught Arthur off guard it was nothing compared to its effect. It started off as a small point of light in the centre of Merlin's outstretched palm, twinkling friendlily in the oppressive darkness like a distant star. Arthur watched transfixed and his jaw dropped as much as it was seemly for a prince to allow. This couldn't be. What the hell was happening? In front of him Merlin stood resolutely, allowing the white glow in his hand to gain intensity without so much as batting an eyelid.

A wave of foreboding washed over Arthur. Managing to tear his eyes away from Merlin long enough to steal a fleeting glance to his right, he noticed his dark doppelgänger looked concerned, however much he, or it, or whatever, might be trying to conceal it.

"Close your eyes," Merlin said, and for some unbeknown reason, but which was most probably shock, Arthur obeyed.

His eyelids burned brilliant orange against the blinding bright glare which followed.

This wasn't possible. It simply wasn't possible.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Arthur opened his eyes the tiniest of cracks and squinted out between his lashes. The whole forest was aglow, bristling with a fierce energy. The dazzling white light that _Merlin_ had summoned illuminated everything around him and the towering grey trees were but frail old men against this gleaming bombardment of magic.

Arthur could just about make out the indistinct figure he knew to be Merlin. Light shot from his fingertips like silver spears that shredded through shadow with an incredible force, leaving only faint black wisps which dissipated into nothingness. Arthur shrank back as a beam of light pierced his double's chest and his imitated face contorted as it swelled inside him. an instant before it exploded violently from within. The image was shattered - and it wasn't the first one that day. Just like that. Everything was over.

The light was recalled. It flooded back into Merlin's hand and Merlin's arm dropped heavily by his side. He looked for Arthur who had just opened his eyes fully and had slid involuntarily part-way down the tree trunk he was stood against, staring at him in disbelief as if seeing him for the first time.

"Please say something," Merlin whispered.

"What in the world was that? What did you just do?" Arthur shouted aghast, having found his voice somewhere amongst a vast disarray of thoughts as well as recovering the use of his legs. "You conjured that light deliberately. That was a spell!"

"Yes," Merlin stated. There was no point denying it and he didn't want to.

"How did you do it? Answer me, Merlin!"

"I have magic," he replied simply.

"Yes, I know _that_," Arthur yelled, his bewilderment beginning to manifest itself as rage. "But it still doesn't explain–"

"I'm afraid it does," Merlin interrupted, with the utmost seriousness. "In fact it explains a lot."

"I don't understand. How...?" Slowly something stirred in Arthur's mind, knocking aside a few stray thoughts and misconceptions and making room for a long, long inhibited cascade of realisation. "No," he breathed.

"I've always had magic. Long before any of this happened," Merlin confirmed.

"No." But try as he might to deny it, his memories suddenly took on a whole new light. When fleeing the knights of Medhir, Merlin had shouted something incomprehensible right before the ceiling had collapsed, but Arthur had just dismissed it and almost forgotten it – he always talked rubbish. He'd even seen Merlin's eyes turn golden – which he'd now come to associate with magic – back in Camelot when they were fighting the illusions. That had been _real_. How could he have been so blind? All those times Merlin knew a little bit more than he ought to for a mere servant suddenly made sense... and Ealdor, that must have been Merlin too. Damn it. He'd lied, and maintained those lies, and he'd fallen for it. Now the whole world was crashing down around him.

"I wanted to tell you, I really did.". Merlin took a step forward in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

"No! You can't be a sorcerer!" Arthur shouted. He backed away from him in disgust. How could he accept this? This was _Merlin_. His own ignorance appalled him. Merlin had even confessed not long after they'd met, he'd also been singled out by the Witchfinder and both those times he had defended him.

"I'm sorry," said Merlin with sincerity.

"Will you stop saying that!" Arthur snapped. The swamp – that must have actually been Merlin. How much power was he hiding behind that façade of incompetence. "It doesn't make sense. Who the hell are you?"

"Merlin."

"No you're not. Merlin is gone now thanks to you."

"Well then, I'm the person who constantly fetches you your dinner cold. I'm the one who calls you supercilious _and_ knows what it means. I'm the one who tidies your room and mucks out your stables and polishes your armour without a single word of appreciation. I'm the same person you've known for two years, Arthur. I just happen to be a warlock." Arthur couldn't believe his ears.

"_Just _a warlock? Is that all? You're a _warlock_! What's more, our entire relationship has been built on lies."

"You really believe that?" asked Merlin sadly.

With every word Merlin spoke Arthur's hurt at this betrayal grew a little deeper. His breathing became furiously quick and shallow. Why did he let it cut him so? He knew why. There was no use pretending that he shouldn't be feeling like this, because he was a prince and Merlin was just a servant; that wasn't true before and it certainly wasn't now. The old Merlin and the one who stood before him now, they were one in the same and yet he still couldn't bring himself to accept it, even though the evidence was staring him in the face. The old Merlin could never have, and would never have hidden something like this from him. But he had. Maybe the old Merlin never existed at all.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," Arthur confessed. "You betrayed Camelot and you betrayed me. Why, Merlin? Why?"

"If anyone found out, I'd be killed. You know that. You told me that not so long since." Merlin's plight washed over Arthur without penetrating the prince's blocks. Arthur couldn't face his own feelings at the moment and empathy was a tricky business, ill-suited for a hot head.

"Then I ask you again – why? What on earth possessed you to practice magic in the first place, and in Camelot of all places? Are you my enemy?" he asked gravely.

"No!" Merlin insisted. "No, Arthur, I am not."

Arthur held Merlin under his scrutinizing gaze unsure what to make of this answer. It wasn't difficult to believe that Merlin wasn't a threat to him, but then again it was completely out of the question that Merlin could have been a sorcerer all this time without him knowing. He wanted to _hate_ Merlin. He wanted to feel nothing but pure unbridled loathing, because then things would be so much easier. Try as he might however, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He finally decided that if he was to retain the slightest shred of confidence in his own judgement – and if he couldn't do that, what good was he – he had to believe that Merlin was telling the truth.

"Then have you got a death wish?" he asked.

"You would think so sometimes," Merlin said. "But I've always been this way. I was born with magic."

"Impossible. You can't have been born with it," Arthur scoffed. "Are you trying to tell me you were crawling around that godforsaken village of yours as a baby casting spells every-which way?" The mental image was preposterous.

"As a matter of fact, yes, pretty much." Arthur was astounded. Every preconception he had now lay in tatters.

"Although I don't always need spells, not for everything anyway," Merlin continued to explain. He studied Arthur. His face was cold and unyielding, his breathing heavy, but at least he was listening. "It's only recently I actually began studying magic, but I've been moving objects with my mind since before I could talk. Magic isn't just something I learned; it is a part of who I am. It is as much a part of me as my heart, or my lungs... or my inordinately prominent pair of auditory appendages." Merlin tried for a glimmer of a smile. It didn't work.

"That's ridiculous!"

"About as ridiculous as gaining magical abilities through a curse that almost killed me?" suggested Merlin.

"Are you implying I'm stupid?" Arthur retorted.

"No," Merlin said. "I'm just saying the two scenarios really aren't that different. You accepted me before when you believed I had magic and that I couldn't help being the way I am. Well, I have magic and I can't help being the way I am. 'You're not evil and no amount of magic is going to change that' – your words, Arthur, not mine. Magic isn't good or evil; it's the person who uses it that counts. I'm still that same person. How is it that you could accept me then and yet you can't now?"

"Because I knew you weren't capable of this. Because I trusted you. Because I _knew _you, Merlin! But I never knew you, did I? From the first moment we met you've been playing me for an complete idiot. I suppose it was entertaining for you, wasn't it, looking down on me when I was calling you the same? Did you enjoy it, practising magic right under my very nose? Was it fun, making me look a _fool_?"

"I promise you, making you look a fool wasn't intentional... Wait a minute. That came out wrong, didn't it?"

Arthur nodded dangerously.

"You're not stupid Arthur," Merlin assured him. "You're honourable and loyal and trusting and these things are assets."

"And look where they've got me," said Arthur bitterly.

"Where? Where have they got you? What's changed?"

"Everything has changed!"

"Really?" queried Merlin. "What has been damaged other than your pride? I've only ever used my magic to help. I would never do anything to hurt you."

"Too late," Arthur said, quietly seething. "You shouldn't have kept this from me. Why, during all the time we've known each other, could you not have told me?"

"If your father ever found out..."

"I'm not asking why you couldn't tell my father, I'm asking why you couldn't tell me?"

"I didn't want to put you in that position."

"Do you think I would have turned you in?"

"Would you, if you had found out differently?" Merlin asked. Arthur paused.

"The point is, I was never given the chance to decide," said Arthur eventually, avoiding a straight answer because truthfully, he wasn't sure what it would be. There was no way he was about to confess to Merlin now, that he might have a point. Not when he was this angry. And he certainly wasn't going to admit that for one very brief moment the thought had crossed his mind even on this occasion.

"This is my life we're talking about," Merlin argued. "I had no choice."

"Yes, you did. For all my misplaced trust in you, you couldn't trust me. Even when I knew you had magic, you still couldn't tell me. You just let me believe more lies. Were you ever going to tell me? How long were you planning on pretending?"

"I was about to tell you. That's what I was trying to say when the shadows came," insisted Merlin.

"Well that's convenient!" said Arthur cynically. "So what really happened last night with the sorceress and that pendant? I want the truth this time!"

"I'm not sure about everything. I was pretty out of it to be honest." The prince may have lacked magic, but the look he gave Merlin as he evaded giving him a straight answer was positively deadly. "Surprisingly you weren't entirely wrong," Merlin explained. "The stone channelled magic into me. A _lot_ of magic. It wasn't a curse or a spell as such, but that much raw power alone can kill easily. I couldn't control it, Arthur – I tried, I really tried, but I couldn't. It was too much even for me and my body had to get rid of it. I tried to protect you– "

"By sending me flying and then trapping me outside a magical... whatever that damn thing was you put in my way?"

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help what I was doing."

"Is there any part of this you can take responsibility for?" Arthur wondered aloud. A pang of sympathy for Merlin's suffering reared its annoying head forcing Arthur to deliberately recall the web of lies in order to suppress it. He wasn't in the mood for this. "You healed yourself. How did you do that?" No, it wasn't curiosity, he just wanted answers.

"I wish I knew. Instinct?" Merlin speculated. "That was the way my magic always used to work when I was younger and to a large extent still does, although I've never been capable of anything like that before," he explained. "Not that I've ever really tried," he added. "I must have been able to use up some of the excess magic somehow. I wasn't lying when I said I don't remember everything."

"You also healed my hand," confessed Arthur dispassionately.

"I did," remarked Merlin surprised. "That's good."

"Good?" Arthur questioned him "You're speaking like this is normal."

"Magic _is _normal for me," Merlin reminded him.

"I'm having trouble coming to terms with that," Arthur admitted after a moment. He was calming, though only slightly. "Who else knows?"

"Just Gaius."

"And the sorceresses apparently," Arthur noted.

"Yes, them too. I'm not sure how to put this but there are prophecies about me."

"Prophecies? About _you_? You _are_ kidding me, right?"

"No. In fact the druids have their own name for me."

"Oh, believe me," said Arthur snidely, "I can think of quite a few good ones of my own."

"It's my destiny to protect you and to help you become a great king," Merlin told him.

There was deathly silence and it took a while for Merlin to figure out why. Then it hit him. _Idiot! _he reprimanded himself. He'd just effectively told Arthur that the reason he'd saved him was because of some stupid, _stupid _prophecy. How must that sound? And to cap it all off he was implying that Arthur needed his help – which of course was true – but neither of them would ever admit it to each other.

"You don't understand," Merlin began to explain. "I didn't mean–"

"No, I do understand. In fact you made it very clear. Well, that explains a lot."

"Look, when I first came to Camelot I used magic to make that chandelier fall on Mary Collins and I slowed down time to push you to the floor so quickly. When I did, I wasn't thinking about destiny, I did it because it was the right thing to do. Every decision I've made before or since, was _my_ choice. I use my magic in this way because it is right and because I cannot bear to see the people I care about hurt. Maybe it _is_ my fate, maybe it _is _my destiny, but if so that's only because I am the person that I am. Maybe that's all destiny is," he realised, "a series of choices I am bound to make because it's in my nature. But if I can use my powers to do good, then if I had the choice, I wouldn't change who I am for anything."

"You can slow down time?" asked Arthur sceptically. The rest of what Merlin had said was still being carefully processed.

"Yes," Merlin sighed. "I find it's very useful in situations involving flying daggers, falling physicians and axe-wielding maniacs."

"Oh," Arthur said, still unsure where he stood with regards to Merlin and most of all himself. "So apart from myself, Gaius and quite possibly the entire magical community in hiding, nobody else knows your secret?"

"Well there's my mother, obviously. Oh, and Lancelot," Merlin suddenly remembered.

"_Lancelot?_" exclaimed Arthur, gobsmacked. "You told Lancelot, but not me?"

"I didn't _tell _him. He heard me enchanting the lance he used to slay the griffin."

Another pause.

"You were responsible for the griffin's death?" Arthur said more softly.

"I helped a little... well, a lot, yes. It could only be killed using magic."

"Why did you do it?"

"Why do you think?" asked Merlin.

Arthur's brow furrowed as he thought. "You really do care about Camelot don't you?" he decided.

"Of_ course _I do! I would rather die than watch innocent people suffer when I can do something to stop it, Merlin said. Arthur nodded, clutching to this common ground.

"Very well," he said. "You can still come with me to Heolstor."

"You weren't exactly going to stop me. I wasn't about to let you go alone." Clearly this had been the wrong thing to say.

"Don't get the wrong idea, Merlin," said Arthur, darkly. "You lied to me for the better part of two years and that's not something I can just ignore. All I care about now is the safety of the city and those people I have a duty to protect. I will do whatever it takes to ensure I succeed. Too much is at stake. As much as it pains me to admit it, we stand a better chance of beating these people if we work together – by which I mean you will do _everything_ I tell you. No more deceptions. If I ask you a question you will give me a straight answer. If I give you an order you will follow it to the letter. Understand?" Merlin nodded resignedly. "I can't trust you any more, Merlin, and I _certainly _don't trust magic."

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**Yes, ahem – told you it was long. I suppose I could have split it but I didn't… obviously. Don't worry readers, Arthur will come around in the end :)**

**I've given up trying to guess when the next chapter will be. I know where things are headed but I write for enjoyment so I never force myself to write if I'm not in the mood, although when I am it tends to take over everything. I also want to write another 'Hexing can be Vexing' chapter as that proved unexpectedly popular. Thankfully I got rhyming dialogue out of my system before writing this chapter *shudders at thought*.**

**Review replies:**

_**Nikki Shaw **_- Thank you very much! I'm very pleased and frankly flattered that you're so enthused by my story, especially when you've been put off Merlin fan fiction by all the slash. I must say I definitely don't care for M/A slash myself but I love the friendship between them. I hope you continue to enjoy reading this.

_**Becky - **_Hope you read past chapter three. If you have got this far and are reading this reply then thank you very much. I really appreciate your comments. I'm definitely not a fast writer but as you may have realised by now, I'm from the UK and series 2 finished here in December last year. So yes, you are behind a tad. On a side note I believe I read somewhere that the scene between Merlin and Arthur before they set out to face the dragon was cut on Syfy for time (episode 13 was 5 minutes longer than usual on BBC). I could be wrong but if that _is _true then you should definitely try and Youtube it because it is one of the most adorable scenes between them in the series.

_**emerald.97 **_- Thank you as always for all your lovely reviews. I'm glad you liked the cliffy and I'm sorry for keeping you hanging when I normally try and resolve cliffhangers quickly. So, now Arthur knows and I hoped you liked the reveal. I highly doubt the show _will _handle it this way (if they EVER get around to it at all) but who knows ;)

_**Orion1432**_- thank you very much. I'm so glad you liked the last chapter. I guess commenting on the rest of your review is a little redundant now you have your answers. I hope Arthur's reaction was okay and in character. Obviously he still has a few issues to deal with which will take time. Expect a (hopefully) sweet reconciliation in a later chapter.


	25. Bridges and Barriers

**So sorry for keeping you folks waiting so long. If you're still following this story it's probably a lot more than I deserve but thank you. Depression can be very tough for me at times. The next chapter was supposed to be longer and wasn't supposed to end up solely Merlin and Arthur again, but due to my temperamental muse I decided to post what I had. This just about still works within the time-line I have planned, but I absolutely can't postpone the other stuff further than that. Sorry if this chapter is not completely up to scratch but I thought you deserved _something_. I've been going mad with manips this last month also (links on profile). Thanks so much for all the lovely feedback I've been receiving for this, especially those of you who continue to review every, or virtually every chapter. I can't tell you how much it's appreciated.**

**Though it should be fairly self-evident, this story diverges from canon after series 2. There may be some conflicts with my future ideas going by the spoilers I've read. Even so, squeee for series 3!**

**Enjoy!

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**Chapter 25**

Three pairs of feet shuffled across the forest floor. The tension that hung thick in the air could have been cleaved with a knife, but neither Merlin nor Arthur dared to break it for fear that once snapped, it would fly back at smack them painfully in the face. The recent revelations were weighing heavily on both of them.

The warlock didn't know what else to say. Apologies seemed inadequate. Explanations sounded smug. There was plenty he hadn't told yet, plenty he wasn't sure _how_ to tell, but Arthur was already overwhelmed. Merlin was still in one piece, he was with Arthur and he was being tolerated for the most part. This was good, though had circumstances been different he still wasn't sure whether his view would have been the dank stone walls of a prison cell, as opposed to a horse's rear end. His future lay in Arthur's hands and only time would tell if things could be mended between them. The way Arthur was constantly blocking him out was becoming increasingly agitating and his face was unreadable. If he would only speak to him; the issue couldn't be ignored forever.

Merlin raised his hands and massaged his temples. To make matters worse he was developing a throbbing headache, which he could only attribute to their growing proximity to the source. He hoped he would start getting used to it soon. Sometimes an over-sensitivity towards magic was more trouble than it was worth. If Arthur had noticed this discomfort he'd said nothing.

The young prince, his sight fogged by his father's hatred and a naïve trust, now broken, was still trying to work things out. How could a companion of two years turn out to be a perfect stranger? How can a force, supposedly malevolent at it's core, manifest itself in such a person as the boy behind him? Outside influence was one thing; this was quite another. How could Merlin have hidden this from him and what else was he hiding?

Eventually it was Arthur who disturbed the deathly silence in an casual manner, quite unbefitting, whilst trying to hide his internal struggle from the outside world and to add some small shred of reassuring normality to the situation.

"That was a bit of luck, finding the horse again so quickly," he commented from atop the steed whilst Merlin trudged, woe-ridden, along behind.

"Yes of course, _luck,_" came the muttered reply.

"What did you say?" said Arthur accusingly as he wheeled round.

"Nothing, Sire," Merlin answered.

"Yes you did. If you've something you want to say then spit it out. _I'm _not a mind reader." Merlin gave a half-hearted laugh.

"Just once, a couple of words of credit wouldn't go amiss. Even now, you completely miss the obvious."

"You?"

Merlin nodded.

"I suppose I should have known."

"And by the way, I don't read minds," Merlin added for Arthur's future reference. "I _do _occasionally overhear telepathy," he added self-consciously, "but I don't read minds."

"Oh," Arthur remarked, uncertain of how to react. Uncertainty summed up just about everything Arthur was feeling right now. Every thought he had contradicted another and added to his confused state. There was only one person who could allay that confusion, but he refused to stoop to that yet. He wasn't about to start asking questions when he appeared ignorant enough already. He would deal with this in his own way – by locking his feelings away as securely as inside any vault. Maybe his father was right; they only made him weak and vulnerable to deception from those he let close to him. Only anger was allowed to occasionally seep out, warding off anything which might penetrate these defences. He may be left as a dull shell, but if he let his emotions overwhelm him he would surely crack.

Merlin was a liar.

Merlin was a sorcerer.

Merlin had betrayed him.

Magic was wicked; end of story. Wasn't that what he had always been told? He'd often had doubts but never more so than now. Magic had been used to save both him and Camelot so it _couldn't_ be all bad. He had proof of that. And hadn't he been apprehensive but willing to accept Merlin mere hours ago – though it felt like a lifetime – even before he knew any of this?

Not now. How could he accept him now?

So much had changed.

Hadn't it?

The finality of his father's beliefs didn't sit right with him and certainly not when applied to Merlin – whoever he was. On the other hand, he'd seen what magic could do. His thoughts flitted back home and he prayed that those he cared about were safe. Magic was violent, destructive and the cause of so much pain and suffering, it was unforgivable. Then again, the same could be said of the unrelenting campaign against it. The swish and dull thunk of an axe reverberated in his mind terminating the lives of so many and tearing families apart. Magic was a choice; that was how he justified all those times he'd carried out his father's wishes, whilst his conscience whispered complaint from the back reaches of his mind, gradually becoming more and more silent with time and experience. Could it _really_ be true that some of them couldn't help possessing magic, that some, perhaps a great many of them, had been completely innocent? If so, then everything he believed was wrong. _Oh __God. _He swallowed against the taste of bile which crept into his throat as the head rolling into the basket suddenly became Merlin's. Blinking, Arthur shook aside this horrifying image. Liar or not, his sorcerer servant didn't deserve that.

He found it difficult to look Merlin in the eye – knowing he was more than he appeared on the surface. His foolish persona was, in a way, just another illusion and he was sick to death of those.

He thought back three days to when he'd almost killed Merlin in a surge of grief and anger, believing him to be a magical imposter. A smirk curled bitterly at the corner of his mouth at the irony. So he'd got it half right. _"And if I was dangerous sorcerer wanting to kill you, I would've probably done it already and saved you a lot of fuss,"_ Merlin had said. He had a point. Merlin was certainly the exception to the rule in that respect. If he'd wanted him dead he would be – unless Merlin had surpassed himself phenomenally in the field of incompetence. Once upon a time he might have believed that were possible. On the contrary now, all evidence pointed to him having a lot more competence than he'd previously been given credit for. Whereas it _should_ have been a comfort, thatmade Arthur uneasy too. It wasn't that he necessarily thought Merlin a bad person, but Arthur didn't know _what_ he was and that not knowing was deeply unpleasant. Merlin was a stranger of the strangest variety. He eyed him up and down, trying to get the measure of him, with little success. For such an innocent-looking individual to bear so much power and to be able to wield it with mere words – or less – it boggled the mind. How could he have been such a poor judge of character? Who _was _he? Arthur couldn't trust Merlin. He _couldn't_. In the end it bottled down to one important fact: he'd been deliberately deceived. Merlin hadn't trusted him.

"To be fair, he's hardly much use now anyway – the horse," Merlin said. "After all, we should be out of the forest soon. We're very close."

Arthur gave Merlin a puzzled expression at this uncharacteristic grasp he suddenly seemed to have on his surroundings.

"Everywhere looks the same. How can you possibly know that? No. Forget it!" he said, holding up his hand. "I don't want to hear it."

"The source of magic, I'm beginning to feel it," explained Merlin anyway. "What's more, since I've had that same magic inside, I'd recognise it anywhere." He was met by an inquisitive frown.

"What does it feel like?" Arthur asked curiously and immediately reprimanded himself for doing so.

"To tell you the truth," – Arthur scoffed at that concept – "at the moment it's giving me a pounding headache," Merlin answered.

"I can't feel anything."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

Arthur huffed, his face a backdrop for contempt.

"I always knew you weren't normal," he said.

"Well, being a _prince_ could be considered out of the ordinary," Merlin noted. "It all depends on how you define normal."

"Not some freak magical oddity," Arthur clarified.

"In that case, yes, I'm very abnormal. Then again, I don't know any different."

"You were _really_ born with it?"

"Really," the warlock confirmed.

Arthur mumbled something vaguely, spun the horse back around and rode off briskly leaving Merlin straggling behind.

"Don't mind me then," Merlin complained. "I'm sure I'll catch up eventually."

Arthur continued on without so much as a glance to his rear, but his pace did markedly relax.

"Come on then, Merlin!" He yelled. "Are all you sorcerers this slow or is it yet another of your natural attributes?"

"I guess it must be," said Merlin, resignedly.

Gradually the crashing sound of water could be heard drifting towards them and the darkness of the forest began to ease as the soft glow of sunlight filtered gently from ahead. Arthur avoided eye contact with Merlin as they emerged from the tree-line in case another 'told you so' was on the cards or at least about to be implied, but Merlin remained obediently silent. _Must you be so bothersome, __Merlin?_

Immediately in front of them a river barred their way. To the left the bank continued downstream and to the right the water thundered relentlessly out of a steep rocky gorge, carved into the imposing stone walls which towered above them. Directly ahead, they saw a narrow pass winding its way to the former town: their destination. The formidable crags wrapped arms around the site, protecting it. In the end they had also made the perfect trap for magical vermin. At least vermin was how _some_ saw them, but Arthur knew that the people that had dwelt their were not animals. They had been people – unordinary yes, but people. . . like Merlin. Arthur also knew what people were capable of, and with magic, much much more. That's what made him wary.

The river's surface was a seething, churning mass of white foam as it gushed past deafeningly. Arthur leaned forward in the stirrups and looked out across the vicious torrent, assessing the width, depth and strength of the river and whether there was even the remotest possibility of crossing without being instantly swept away. A broken branch was being buffeted about wildly and it snapped in two with the force of the water as it rushed past them, alarmingly fast. He sighed. Whilst the last couple of days had been fine with regards the weather, the effects of the torrential rain prior to that were clearly still evident here. It was useless; they'd never cross, at least not in this place.

_This is going to be a problem_, Arthur thought.

_No problem_, thought Merlin. At least it wasn't now his gift was out in the open.

"I'm going to follow the bank to see if there's somewhere else to cross," Arthur shouted over the river's roar. "You, stay here," he ordered, looking at Merlin severely.

"Arthur, I..." Merlin began, trying to explain the simple solution.

"Just stay."

"But if you'd just list–" Merlin yelled back as Arthur galloped off downstream.. . . "Or not."

Sighing, he turned to face the tree-line. He didn't need words and it took no effort at all. In a flash one of the smaller trunks lay flat on the ground and seconds later had been stripped of branches. It was a simple task then to levitate the log so it hovered across the rapids and position it so the river was traversed.

Arthur was out of sight but he would surely return soon. He crossed over to the far bank. It didn't matter what Arthur thought about this; what mattered was the task at hand.

Merlin perched himself on a boulder to wait beside the churning waters. He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. Magic was so strong here and the cliffs were a dominating presence at his back. He couldn't ignore this constant sensation and it only served as a reminder of the danger they faced. Time was gradually running out and it was imperative that they succeed. If only Arthur would listen to him, but he did understand his reaction even if it ate him up inside. He decided that there was no point begging for complete forgiveness – he wasn't sure he even deserved it – and as much as he wanted to tell him more, the last thing Arthur needed at the moment was another spiel of revelations about how magic had saved his life time and time again. It was a lot for _anybody_ to take in let alone the Crown Prince. Until Arthur was ready and willing to learn more there was the possibility it would only push him further away until he'd had time to mull things over. Merlin didn't want to take that chance. Also, if the only thing that swayed Arthur was a sense of debt to be repaid, what was that actually worth? His life maybe, if he was back in Camelot with his neck on the line, but that wasn't the case. Surprisingly, he realised he didn't want gratitude or recognition any longer. Maybe he was been selfish and unrealistic, but more than anything, he just wanted the old Arthur, his friend, back.

The best thing he could do now, Merlin decided, was to be himself, his complete self, and hope that Arthur would be able to see him through the haze of betrayal and deceit and accept him again for who he really was, magic and all. But could that ever happen? Blinking away a hint of moisture, he lowered his head in his hand. It was no small thing to ask. Would Arthur, a man so driven by a sense of loyalty and honour, not to mention a lifetime learning of the evils of magic, ever be able to trust him after this. Every look received now growled 'traitor'.

Arthur needed him. He needed Arthur. However unlikely a pair they may make, the whole was far greater than the sum of its parts and without each other they were lost. Their relationship wasn't completely broken. . . yet, but it had been shattered and badly. Cracks wound their way throughout their entire history, slicing savagely in half pleasant memories of playful banter, petty bickering and shared victories. Those cracks ran deep.

The crashing and gurgling of the current was growing monotonous as Merlin waited for Arthur's return.

"_**Éafiscas,**_" Merlin muttered and his irises blazed as he stared without looking into the furious flow of the river. A shoal of fish leapt from the foam, glistening. On close inspection each tiny scale was an individual droplet of shimmering silver water: a sparkling spectacle. The faintest trace of a smile graced Merlin's features as they danced before him for his amusement. It was quite beautiful even though he said so himself. If only Arthur could see that side of magic.

Several minutes later and the prince came cantering back up the riverbank. He drew the horse to a halt and dismounted.

Merlin discreetly rubbed his reddened eyes and tilted his carefree mask in Arthur's direction.

"There's no way we're going to get across this river without making a serious detour," Arthur said. "There's just been too much rain." He did a double take. "Merlin! How–? What are you doing over there?"

Merlin glanced to his left, Arthur's right, at the makeshift wooden bridge which now spanned the torrent that roared between them.

"Where did _that_ come from?"

"We are next to a wood," Merlin said, pointing out the obvious.

"You actually felled a tree and moved it here by yourself?"

"Yes."

"You used magic. _Again_." Arthur glowered at him.

"Well done, Merlin, for finding a way across the un-crossable river. You're welcome, Sire," Merlin said, a little more tetchily in tone than he'd intended. "Now, are you coming over or not?"

"Hmmm." Arthur was clearly apprehensive; his wariness of magic and his unwillingness to trust the young man who had lied to him the entire time they'd known each other was vying against the necessity of reaching his destination and basic common sense. "Is it safe?"

"Perfectly."

"You're absolutely certain? It _is _magic."

"It's a _log_!" Merlin exclaimed. "Regardless of how I put it there, it's not going to come to life and bite you." Arthur remained unconvinced.

"I'm sure there must be another way."

Merlin sighed, _again_.

"Please listen to me," he said reassuringly. "Whatever you might think of me right now, I promise I'd never do anything to harm you."

"Perhaps not intentionally," Arthur said. "If you've done your job correctly – which may be wishful thinking – we should have a rope packed somewhere. If I could only find. . . ."

"Arthur!"

"What is it Mer-lin?" Arthur snapped, a touch of venom in his voice.

"Just cross the log!" Merlin yelled across the river.

Arthur was taken aback by Merlin's abruptness. They stared at each other across the multitude of barriers that lay between them. The river was the least of these and the simplest to overcome. So why was he holding back? His hatred for magic was peeling away to uncover a buried fear, now bared to the world, and he cursed himself for it. This wasn't him. It was true that no amount of rational thinking could overrule a lifetime's upbringing in one day, but he couldn't live like this. Oh for a life or death split-second decision, a battle based on speed and skill and strength with no time for thinking – something _easier_ than this_. _ He steeled himself. Well, he was Arthur Pendragon not a coward and he certainly wasn't about to let himself be deterred by mere sorcery, least of all Merlin's. He tied the horse securely to a low-protruding branch near the water's edge as there was little point in taking it any further; what little remained of the town of Heolstor, lay just out of sight behind the rocky boundary. With a look of resignation he stepped out onto the felled trunk and crossed tentatively. It certainly looked like a log, it felt like a log and as he reached the other side without incident he couldn't deny it had acted as completely un-magically inert as he expected a log to act. He looked back the way he'd just come. Anticlimactically he was forced to conclude, that had been embarrassingly easy. It was only a tree-trunk over a river – of course it had. He turned to Merlin, feeling a desperate need to vent his frustration somehow.

"Never speak to me like that again!" he warned. "And I want no more magic behind my back."

"I did try and tell–"

"Enough is enough," he stated.

"I just assumed–"

"You assumed, did you? Well from here on in, it's probably best if you don't assume anything – except perhaps an air of intelligence on the odd occasion. And will you quit gawking at the river like an idiot. Don't tell me you've never seen a fish before."

Merlin regarded his magical creation and raised his eyebrows. Trust Arthur to be as observant as ever.

"You're very welcome," Merlin muttered as they set off along the narrow passage to the remains of the old town.

Rugged grey walls encroached on either side of them, however Merlin's eyes were fixed firmly on the floor as he stumbled step-by-step along, holding his throbbing head in his hand. Power surrounded them, why could Arthur not feel it? He groaned. How did other people actually _live_ here? Maybe it was something you could get used to, or maybe he was just different. "No-one's like you Merlin," Gaius' voice spoke to him in his mind. His uniqueness had never been a weakness before, but he had to overcome it. Like it or not, Arthur needed his skills.

"Just a minute," Arthur said, turning suddenly in front of him and causing Merlin to step on his foot. Surprisingly, Arthur made no comment on this. "You can walk in front where I can keep and eye on you."

"Who's going to watch your back?"

"I'll manage."

Slowly, Merlin began to stagger forward ahead of Arthur.

"The fate of Camelot rests on our shoulders, surely you can move quicker than that."

"Sorry."

"Wait a minute," Arthur stopped him.

"Make your mind up."

"What's this?" Arthur pointed to a series on runic inscriptions etched into the stone to the side of him. They could be found dispersed all over the rock and each one was different. "Enchantments."

"I don't think–"

"And what would you know about–" Arthur began. Merlin stared back in disapproval. "Oh, yes, right. Can I suppose you're actually capable of reading this then?" Merlin squinted at the text.

"Some of it. It's mostly trivial stuff, things people have written for fun. 'Bevan was here', 'Keira and Dale: one heart, one soul'," Merlin recited. Seconds later he swallowed a hard lump in his throat, when it occurred to him that these people had probably been caught in the slaughter. From the look on Arthur's face, he was thinking the same. He resumed sombrely. "That one's a spell, a ward to deter dangerous beasts. So is that one over there," Merlin said, passing over several rather coarse comments, unworthy of translation. "That's to promote fertile crops. . . . These are more meaningful," Merlin said, turning to the opposite wall. "_Á__c tól áncyn gestreónþ ingehygdnes mid se mann gewealende hit." _

He watched Arthur tense as the old language slipped effortless from his tongue. The prince's fingertips twitched at his sides as he fought the ingrained instinct to defend himself; clearly he was under the impression that Merlin was practising more magic.

"A tool only gains purpose with the one wielding it,_" _Merlin explained. He saw Arthur let down his guard slightly. "It means–"

"I'm aware of what it means," Arthur interjected dully. "It's an analogy for magic, isn't it?"

"Yes. It is."

"What about that other one?"

"_Hit sy éaðelice to féogan hwæt þú ætéorest to ongietan_," Merlin read. "It is easy to hate what you fail to understand." Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Arthur lower his head self-consciously. It snapped back up when he looked at him properly.

"Actually, I meant _that_." Arthur nodded to a long, thick score in the wall. Merlin looked, his aching head a few inches from the stone.

"It's just a line," he replied.

Arthur grabbed the collar of his jacket and yanked him back a few steps to reveal the bigger picture. Merlin's eyes widened as they traced what he thought was just a vertical line and saw it angled down at the top: a letter L. At either side, more runic letters could be seen, towering over their smaller counterparts. They were very recent judging by their lack of weathering. He scanned the stone expanse from left to right. _Wé þéodwricaþ híe and Camelot áforhtaþ. N__ú__ þæt ríce of Pendragon endaþ. _He was sure it was just a statement, but he avoided saying the threatening words out loud just in case.

"Well?" asked Arthur sharply.

"'We avenge them and Camelot trembles in fear," said Merlin softly. "Now the reign of Pendragon ends'."

Arthur stood in silence, his face blank and emotionless.

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Merlin asserted.

Merlin's voice, filled with confidence he didn't share, stirred something inside Arthur. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but it was not unlike admiration.

"Or me. We end this outrage here," he firmly agreed.

Comrades-in-arms: it was a start.

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**A/N: It's so hard to write the gap between Arthur and Merlin when normally I end up getting carried away with banter. I wanted to write a situation where Arthur can't physically distance himself from Merlin while he mulls things over so I hope this comes across emotionally. The eventual reconciliation is pretty much written but it occurs at a specific place which I won't alter so bear with me. Hopefully it will be worth the wait. Once again, the Old English is probably inaccurate especially gramatically. I know at least one person is bothering to translate my spells so I thought I should re-emphasise that.  
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**I'll update when I update, but I _will_ update. I really should be job hunting. Merlin is too addictive.

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**Unsigned review replies (hopefully I managed to reply to everyone else individually)**

_**Becky**_ - Thank you so much for your reviews and I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting for so long. My muse has been somewhat temperamental of late. "You paint beautiful pictures with your words" - gee, wow, thanks! Given my complete amateur status at writing stories that means a lot to me. I'm also glad you feel I'm being authentic to the show. It makes me really happy to know that you're enjoying this.

_**Ann Nonomus**_ (chapter 2) - Thanks, I'm glad you liked the round table bit. So many people have commented on it. I'm glad it went down well.

_**Orion1432 **_- Thank you very much. I'm so pleased that you liked the reveal. I didn't want to have Arthur accept Merlin straight away, but I still wanted his attitude to be understandable. I'm glad you felt sorry for him and I hope you don't hate him too much after this chapter. I guess I'm kind of writing a ye olde satellite delay between Arthur's thoughts and his behaviour and actions. Arthur is in full prat mode at the moment but I hope it is still reasonably in character for him.

The reconciliation has been in a draft state for months, which is more than can be said for the rest of this story, I'm ashamed to admit. It might be a couple of chapters yet because I know exactly where I want it to be and it's now mostly written bar a few inevitable last minute tweaks. I'm quite pleased with it. Hopefully it will be nice but still Arthur and Merlin, so sweet, yes, but not saccharine. Sorry about the waits for updates.

_**Anonymous Fan/AwesomeFan55/1person/Me12345 –**_ Erm, I hope I'm correct in assuming you're one person :D If not, embarrassed apologies. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review this story as you went along. I really enjoyed all your comments. I have had it in for Merlin quite a lot haven't I? Perhaps a little more than I'd intended. Maybe I should injure Arthur in the near future to balance things out *grins evilly*. Glad you've been enjoying this story (and Hexing can be Vexing too)! Be warned, my update speed can be shockingly slow at times.


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